Icy Destiny
by xxlostdreamerxz
Summary: Reluctantly abandoned by his father, Voldemort, for being a squib, Harry must learn to hold his own against a prejudiced, dark society. Elemental Harry.
1. Desolate Melodies

**Icy Destiny**

**By: **xxlostdreamerxz

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**Chapter 1: Desolate Melody**

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It was the first of December when _it_ happened - the worst storm in the history of both Muggle and Magical folk alike hit the coast of Scotland. And it was during this very night that a tall yet slender man apparated right into the proposed 'eye' of the storm. The man was in his early thirties, with a head full of long thin ebony hair and a pair of becoming emerald green eyes. He was none other than one - Tom Marvelo Riddle.

"Daddy? Where are we?" a young voice asked curiously. The boy peaked his head out of the thick, warm shawl that his father had carefully wrapped about his person, as he studied his surroundings in awe. The child, who looked to be around the age of five, was almost an exact copy of his father. He had the same pair of bright, emerald green eyes, the aristocratic nose, and lastly his father's high cheekbones. The only thing that was different about him was his head of messy, wavy black hair - his mother's, as his father had once mentioned fondly. As he waited for his father's answer, the boy gave him a warm smile and snuggled trustingly against his shoulder.

Tom shook his head sadly, mindlessly ruffling his son's hair. "It doesn't matter," he said quietly, almost to himself. Tom flinched as his son nodded absently and snuggled closer against him. He turned away, carefully avoid his son's gaze...knowing that the warmth and honesty that he saw in them would be his undoing. "It'll be over soon, m'boy. Soon," he whispered, tightening his hold on his child. Feeling his doubts and fears start to grow, Tom forcefully squashed them down within a moment's notice. He didn't want to do this...he didn't...

...there was no other choice.

A child, especially one who carried his blood, would be the death of him. Tom knew that should his enemies manage to get their hands on the boy, death would seem like a lover's caress for his son. At first he had been willing to risk it, planning to start training the boy at a young age so that, given time, his son would be able to defend himself. A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

His plan had failed completely.

The boy, his beloved son, was the embodiment of all the things that he hated. The things that he had once planned to destroy the moment he gained immortality. Unconsciously, Tom wrapped his arms tighter against the bundle of clothes that his son was in, causing the boy to squeak at the pressure.

The boy...was a squib.

"Harry?" he whispered softly, staring gently down at his child. "There is something I need to tell you."

The boy gave him a toothy smile, his emerald green eyes focused upon his father's face. "What?" he asked curiously. "Tell tell," he chanted happily.

Tom stared at his son's face for a long moment as he mentally drank in every detail. This was the last time he would ever see his child again, hear the boy's shrieks of laughter, and feel the boy's sunny presence. "Harry," he whispered softly as he looked away, unable to face his son. "I want to say goodbye," he said slowly. "There is something that I need to do. I...I will be leaving for awhile." Sneaking a glance at his son, Tom was surprised to see the confused expression plastered upon Harry's face.

"Y-you go away?"

"Yes, I am going away," he said as evenly as he could.

Harry was quiet for a second as he stared into his father's eyes. The boy's troubled expression disappeared as an idea popped into existence. "Then I'll go with you!" he declared stoutly, giving his father a warm hug. "I'll be with you forever."

Tom didn't know whether to laugh or cry at his son's words. "T-that isn't possible, Harry," he whispered softly, his voice growing hoarse with emotion. "The path that I'm taking is too dangerous for you. It is a journey that I need to make myself." _The Dark would never tolerate someone as undeniably Light as you, child. If it wouldn't kill you, then I, as its vessel, might._

His eyes darkened with pain as he imagined waking up to sight of his son's sunken emerald green eyes staring accusingly at him. _Dead._ Tom flinched, a hint of hysteria tingling his thoughts. _How is this any better? Instead of letting my subconscious Dark side kill him, I'm actively allowing him to die. His hands would be soaked in blood either way. _

Coward.

Tom looked away, his arms tightening automatically around his child. He knew the real reason why he was doing this…why he was here in the middle of this frozen wasteland with his heir. _I don't want to kill him…not that way. _If he allowed the boy to stay as he delved deeper in the Dark Arts, chances are, he would slip and torture or even kill his son. Harry deserved better.

This was the only way.

As if feeling his father's resolve, Harry's body shook in fear. "But...but I can help you!" he said desperately, large, fat tears forming in his emerald green eyes. "I'll...I'll do anything! J-just don't leave me!"

Tom looked away.

"Y-you can't leave!" he stuttered out, "You promised me!"

Tom sighed softly as he recalled his promise to his Harry a few years back. "I sorry," he said once again. Bowing his head in defeat, he slowly took out his favorite silver dagger and handed it over to Harry. "Take this," he said softly, "You deserve it more than I ever will. As long as you have that...I shall always be with you."

_The Slytherin name and legacy will die with you. _Tom thought sadly, as he forcefully relinquished his magical hold on the item._ You are my true heir, Harry. There will be no one after you; no one else to carry the Ancient and Noble name of Slytherin. I will be the last of our kind. _

Harry flinched back, causing the silver dagger to fall into the snow. "I won't! I don't want a knife! I...I just don't want you to leave!'

Tom forcibly made himself let go of his child, placing the small bundle of blankets onto the snow. His eyes darkened in pain as Harry grabbed his robes and held on. His hands shook as he gently pried his boy's fingers off his robes.

This was it. This was goodbye.

He could do this.

Tom glanced back at his son one last time and leaned forward to kiss the boy on the forehead. "May Merlin be with you," he whispered softly, before disappearing with a soft pop. However, before he left, Harry caught sight of a single tear trailing down his father's face...

"I love you m'boy..."

And with those five parting words, Tom Marvolo Riddle finally cut his last tie to his past - to his humanity. It was upon this very night that the demon known as Lord Voldemort rose into being - a demon whose heart mourned the death of a single green eyed child.

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**TBC**


	2. A World Apart

**Icy Destiny**

By: xxlostdreamerxz

Disclaimer: No I do not own HP. No Slash.

A/N: Sorry about the long wait. I kinda forgot that I finished this chapter.

**Bold Flashback **

'thoughts'

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**Chapter 2: A World Apart**

_When the world has turned its back to you, who could you turn to?_

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**December 1, 1987: (2 hours later)**

The hours dragged on at an agonizingly slow rate and though each being cooler than the last, it had not yet reached an intolerably freezing temperature yet - or so he thought. At the moment, Harry was too busy mopping about (and crying for the matter) to truly take note of the rapidly darkening sky and the howling wind. Harry, with his simple five-year-old mentality, had yet to truly accept the fact that his father had left him. But, all the same, he was not dim enough not to understand the implications of his temporary abandonment - it was a punishment.

He had done something wrong.

And yet, try as he might, Harry couldn't seem to fathom what in the world he had done wrong. His last memory consisted of him and his father taking a boat trip on their private lake. His father had seemed slightly distant, but was still the warm, caring person that he'd grown to love. He...

'...he broke his promise,' a voice in his mind stated darkly. 'He left you...'

Harry frowned. No, that wasn't right. His father wasn't like that! His father was a great man! (At least in Harry's eyes). His father had always been there for him ever since his mother had been killed by a rampaging Muggle murderer. He had always been there to help him up whenever the world became too dark and cold. Harry loved his father! His cheeks, which were already flushed from the cold, turned cherry pink as he flushed in shame. Was he so ungrateful that he would turn against the only person who'd ever cared about him without a second thought?

The voice snorted. 'Your father doesn't deserve your loyalty, boy.'

"He'll come back for me when he's finished his task," Harry said, as he ignored the voice. "I _know_ that he wouldn't leave me!"

"Foolish child," the voice chided. "Loyalty is a double-edged sword. Do not listen to your heart..."

Harry shook his head. "Father _will_ come back," he shot back stubbornly, "I trust him. I _know_ him. He wouldn't do such a thing! He is better than that!"

The voice chuckled softly at Harry's words. "You are just as stubborn as that mule of a father of yours," it stated in mild amusement. "Very well, may you welcome the future with open arms, childe." And at those words, Harry felt the slightest tickle as the voice left his mind.

Much to say, Harry couldn't help but feel slightly unnerved. It was never a good thing to hear voices in your mind was it? Especially one that referred to him as 'childe.' But...from what he remembered, his father had once mentioned to him (out of the blue that is) that such voices were slightly prophetic. They were the voices of the Fates, the three witches in charge of managing the mortal affairs. These witches were powerful. So much that should someone accidentally anger them...

...well lets just say, it wouldn't be pretty.

But, none of this made sense. What business did one of the three Fates have with a little squib like him? Harry knew that he was nothing special. Heck he couldn't even do magic! (much to both him and his father's disappointment). With a soft sigh, Harry decided that it would be more prudent to concentrate with the matter at hand. He could reflect upon the Fates words some other day. Right now, he had a task to do. A stubborn glint entered his emerald green eyes. He'll show his father that - squib or no - he would be able to survive in such a terrain.

Harry shivered violently as he felt the bitter wind tear through the thin sapphire blanket of his. It _was_ cold, he noted dimly for the first time today. Horribly cold that is. The snow which had been falling down peacefully, was now swirling about in a mad frenzy. Distantly, he heard the sound of wolves howling in the background.

'A werewolf?' Harry thought worriedly, as he quickly scrambled to his feet. If there was anything in the world he feared, it was a werewolf. A year or so ago, his father had agreed to take him to Knockturn Alley (due in part to Harry's persistent pleads) and it was there that Harry had met his worst nightmare. Somehow while his father had been making purchases, Harry had wandered away and had gotten lost. And unfortunately for him, Harry had accidentally entered a notorious bar for werewolves and vampires. Though, Harry had to admit now that he looked back - he was bloody lucky that his father had shown up. Or else, he thought with a shiver, he'd most likely have ended up as _'dinner.'_

Without missing a beat, Harry quickly grabbed his blanket and the silver knife that his father had left him before hightailing out. If it _was_ a werewolf, he sure as hell wasn't going to stay and find out...

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**X**

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**Flashback 1 year ago**

_"Delicious," a voice whispered huskily near his ear, causing Harry to flinched backwards in both fear and surprise. "Young flesh is absolutely delectable," the man muttered half to himself, as his feral yellow eyes glowed with hunger._

_Harry's eyes widened in fear as he hastily backed away from the 'crazy' man._

_"Aww...leaving so soon?" the golden-haired man said in a mockingly gentle tone, as he made to block Harry's path. "We haven't gotten to know each other yet."_

_"I...I..."_

_A slow cruel smile grew upon the man's mouth as he smelled the boy's fear. "My name is Garou, pack leader of the Ceyx," he whispered softly, as he clasped his hand tightly upon Harry's shoulder. "And you are?" _

_"No one to you," Harry said defiantly, as he met the werewolf's eyes. "And if you don't mind, I will be leaving now," he said as politely as he could, before ducking under the man's arm and bolting. Only to be caught by one of the man's companions. _

_Garou bared his teeth into a dark smile. "Well as a matter of fact, I do mind," he said cruelly. "After all, from this day and out, you will be my personal...playmate." _

_Even though Harry did not understand what the man was saying, he knew well enough that it was something **bad**. His emerald green eyes darted about the perimeter of the club as he searched desperately for an exit. He_ had _to get out..._

_"What if I don't want to play with you," said Harry, trying to buy himself some time. "I need to go home..." _

_Garou and his men let out a dark bark of laughter. "Well child, that's just such a shame," he said in between chuckles. "Because you really don't have a choice in the matter." The man bent down so that he could look eye to eye with the child. "You are **mine**," he said possessively as his eyes darkened with lust. _

_"No," retorted Harry, as he shook his head violent. "I belong to no one but myself. Daddy told me so." _

_"Oh, well then you 'daddy's' a liar," the man murmured, as he leaned closer and closer to the child. "After all, you will serve me until the day you die." _

_Harry flinched away. But, his eyes widened in relief as he noticed a familiar figure strolling through club towards him. A pair of older, wiser, emerald green eyes met Harry's, urging him to remain silent and continue with the game. _

_"You're lying," he whispered fearfully, as he backed away. "You can't make me," Harry said defiantly, his voice gaining strength and power. "I was told that we are all in charge of our own futures and that there is no one in heaven or hell powerful enough to say otherwise." _

_The werewolf chuckled at the boy's words, as he turned towards his companions. "Aren't innocents just so...delectable?" _

_Without knowing why, Harry's stomach churned in disgust at those words. "You're nasty," he spat, making sure to spit in the man's face. "No wonder people hate werewolves..."_

_There was a moment of silence, as the werewolves glared at Harry with a mixture of anger and fury. No one, wizard or no, had ever insulted them in their face before..._

_Garou was the first to recover from the shock. "You filthy rat," he roared, as he backhanded Harry, causing the boy to fly off his feet towards the wall. "I'll show you..." the werewolf stopped short, as he noticed for the first time a tall aristocratic man standing in the corner. _

_"Who are you?" he demanded instantly, all thoughts of the boy disappearing from his mind. "How did you get in?" _

_The dark-haired man did not reply. _

_"Answer me, wizard!" _

_The dark-haired man tilted his head back slightly as his cold emerald green eyes met Garou's startled yellow ones. _

_Ice. That was the only word Garou could use to describe those frosty chips of emerald. Never before in his entire life, had he ever met a wizard who scared him. After all, as far as he was concerned, wizards were weak, foolish, wand-waving idiots..._

_...but, this wizard was different. He was powerful. _

_"You have 3 seconds," the wizard stated coolly, his face a stony, unreadable mask. And at that, the wizard gently hoisted a bundle of shaking robes into his arms before disappearing with a soft 'pop.'_

_It took a second for Garou to realize that said 'bundle' that the wizard had taken away happened to be his new green eyed child-toy. _

_It took another second, for him to recall and puzzle over the wizard's last words..._

_However, by then it was too late. A dark green glow enveloped the entire building killing all those who were unfortunate enough to be within the perimeter of the club. All those, save for one individual, were killed or burned to crisp. And it was here, that the legend and wrath of the imminent Dark Lord Voldemort first began..._

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**X**

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A small white falcon shivered lightly as it flew defiantly against the strong winter breeze. He knew that he had to find shelter fast - his instincts demanded it. He released a loud squawk of desperation as he scoured the white landscape for a sign. At the moment, he would have appreciated pretty much any form of shelter. It was cold...so cold...

There! His sharp golden brown eyes narrowed as he caught sight of a unusual fleck of blue in the large sea of snow.

And with his eye fixed upon the now visible blue bundle, the falcon began a steep dive. Momentarily allowing the icy wind to bolster his speed, the falcon shivered as he tried his best to stay awake. And at that, the falcon managed to successfully land abet a tad nosily into the soft fluffy snow, causing the 'unusual blue bundle' to jolt upright at the sound.

Harry looked up hopefully. The soft 'poof' sounded almost like Apparation. 'Had father returned?' A slow smile grew on his lips as his puffy red eyes surveyed his surrounded with renewed vigor. Hastily he wiped away his tears, now feeling slightly embarrassed at his moment of weakness. He should have known better! His father would never desert him!

"Daddy?" he called out, as the wind screamed in his ears. "Daddy are you there!" Idly, Harry pulled the sapphire blanket tighter about himself as he shakily rose to his feet. His eyes sparkled in delight as small white snowflakes began descending from the sky. He had always wanted to see a genuine snowfall ever since he was a child. It had been a sort of dream of his; he had always held a passion for snow. Harry's lips widened into a cheery smile. So that was why his father had left him here! So that he could see the snow, so that he could experience the beauty of the weather! Shivering lightly, Harry hugged the blanket tighter.

It was so cold!

Harry frowned lightly. As much as he loved the weather, he couldn't help but wish his father would stop hiding. After all, what fun was it to marvel at the landscape by yourself. He wanted someone to talk to. Someone to share his thoughts with. "Come out wherever you are!" he called out loudly as he spun about cheerfully, waiting impatiently for a pair of familiar strong arms to lift him up. "I heard you 'pop' in Daddy! Stop hiding!"

The silence was deafening.

A sense of helplessness gathered in his chest. 'Was I hearing things?' he thought numbly, as all his doubts and fears crashed down upon him once again. He didn't want to be alone.

Not again...not like before.

Mustering up all his courage, Harry pushed away his doubts. His father wouldn't do such a thing! His father was a great man! Ever since his mother had died, Harry had looked up to him for support. And not once had his father let him down. His father had always been there for him to pull him up when he fell. He had always been there to offer a kind word whenever the world became to dark and cold.

Harry felt a flicker of shame. Was he such an ungrateful child that he'd turn against the only person who'd ever cared about his in a matter of seconds? Harry felt his stomach churn both in apprehension and disgust. He shouldn't have doubted his father so soon. He respected his father...and for that alone, Harry knew he should have been able to see through his fears and reveal the truth. His father would never leave him in such a fashion. It just wasn't his style.

:Caw:

A small frown glanced Harry's lips at the sound. 'A...crow?' his mind supplied hesitantly, as it noted the absurdity of such a statement. Crows were temperate creatures. They needed warmth and a plethora of bugs in order to survive. And during winter, Scotland did not provide either in even the barest minimum. 'Crows could not live in Scotland especially in this weather,' his mind concluded firmly.

:Caw:

Harry tilted his head slightly, as he caught the sound of another weak caw. Now hit with an extreme case of curiosity, Harry slowly followed the noise. Taking care to watch his step (after all, it would do him no good to accidentally kill the creature), Harry slowly made his way towards an unusual medium-sized hole within the snow. Cautiously, he carefully scoured the ground for any potholes before stepping closer towards the hole...

And froze mid-step.

A tiny white falcon laid on its side, as it desperately tried to crawl back onto its feet. The ice was so slippery that its tiny talons couldn't manage to get a firm enough grip to get up. And Harry noted with a flicker of sadness and pity, that the falcon was almost at death's gate. As the falcon caught sight of Harry, it flinched backwards and tried to fly away. However, due to the ice and water, the falcon's wings were heavy...much to heavy for flight, causing it to flap about like a headless chicken.

A surge of compassion and guilt flooded Harry's veins. He felt sorry for it - for the beautiful creature who had to suffer such a cruel fate. A creature who would not even receive a peaceful death due to its fear of him. Not knowing why, Harry stepped forward and carefully leaned down against the edge of the hole. His emerald green eyes staring meeting the falcon's panicked golden ones.

"Shhh..." Harry whispered softly, as he stared down at the poor slowly dying falcon. "I won't hurt you," he said gently, as his emerald green eyes glowed enticingly with warmth. "I want to help you...," he paused as he corrected himself "I will help you, but I need you to trust me..."

The falcon paused as it glanced deeply into the boy's eyes. He did not trust humans, ever since his own beloved dam was slaughtered by hunters a winter ago. He had hated humans since. But, this child was different. The child's innocence and goodness radiated for it like a beacon. He could feel the child's magic pulsating at its core - different but pure. He felt the magic throb warmly, as if recognizing his attempt to study it. For now, he decided, he would trust the child...

"See?" he said warmly. "That's better now isn't it?"

The falcon shot Harry a wary glance but gave the bird-like version of a nod, before cawing weakly.

Making sure to keep his movements slow so he would not startle the falcon, Harry reached down and scooped it up carefully. "Now I'll...I'll..." he paused, as he tried to figure out what to do next. For the first time since he caught sight of the poor falcon lying eagle-spread at the bottom of the ditch, Harry realized how hopeless the situation was. He couldn't do magic! How in the world was he suppose to save it? He had gotten so used to depending upon his father for any magical assistance...

As if feeling Harry's uncertainty, the falcon withered about nervously.

Interpreting the falcon's flinches as shivers due to the cold, Harry quickly wrapped the bird up with his blanket. Just enough to keep the bird warm, but not enough to suffocate it. "There!" he said cheerfully, as he surveyed his work with pride. This was pretty much the first time he'd ever successfully wrapped something up.

The falcon breathed in the boy's magical scent. It was so warm and invigorating. Slowly as time passed, the bird's shivers decreased with each successive breath the boy let out. The falcon didn't understand, but he knew that the boy's very breath _was_ life. It was magic at its most basic form. It made him stronger both physically and mentally. It made him feel as if he was now strong enough to take on those horrible winter winds and win. Cooing in delight, the falcon scooted closer to Harry who in turn giggled lightly and petted the 'beautiful bird.'

"Are you alright now?" he asked gently, as he eyed the bird critically.

The falcon cawed brightly and nipped Harry's finger lightly, as is saying his thanks.

Harry smiled sadly, as the snowstorm began to worsen. "I guess we'll just have to face this together..."

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	3. Abode in the Snow

**Icy Destiny**

**By:** xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer:** No, I do not own HP.

**Note:** Happy Holidays! Alright, all the scenes are happening at about the same time. And just to let you know, since I am from California (aka. I've only see and been in snow two times in my whole life) the following scenes and explanations might not be accurate. But hey, I tried. XD now go Read and Review please!

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**Chapter 3: Abode in the Snow**_  
"If one dream should fall and break into a thousand pieces, never be afraid to pick one of those pieces up and begin again." Flavia Weedn_

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**Coast of Scotland**

* * *

It was so cold. 

Harry let out a shuddering breath as he wrapped the thick shawl tighter about himself; careful not to upset the injured falcon perched on his lap. His childishly innocent eyes scoured the quickly darkening white expanse before him, searching for a sign...

However, instead of catching a glimpse of his father, Harry was greeted, rather violently, with a fistful of icy snowflakes that the wind shoved towards him. Coughing slightly, Harry swiped the snowflakes off of his person before they melted.

His eyes darkened with sadness, as his surroundings slowly dissolved into a mad whirlwind of snowflakes...

'He _wouldn't_ leave me for good,' he thought rebelliously, trying his best to quash the rising fear and pain that rose in his heart. 'He said that he has to complete a task, a-and once he does, he'll come back for me!" Harry thought stubbornly.

The falcon cawed weakly, drawing Harry's out of his thoughts. The bird tilted its head to the side and puffed its feathers up, causing it to look like a gray ball of fluff.

Harry giggled at the sight, feeling his previous emotions melt as he watch the innocent creature before him. Moving slowly so to not scare the tiny bird, Harry gently petted it with his index finger.

'It's so soft!'

The falcon crooned in delight, but directed an almost baleful glance towards the boy. Once again, the bird hopped out of his lap and onto the crook of his arm and puffed out its feathers.

Harry blinked in confusion as he watched the bird's strange antics. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, eyeing the bird carefully.

The falcon cawed weakly as it pointedly shook off a bit of snow, before hopping back onto the boy's lap, inside the small warm shawl.

"Oh! You're cold?" Harry guessed, feeling the falcon shiver violently on his lap. Carefully, he drew the shawl tighter about his person and offered his spare hand as a perch for the tired bird. The falcon studied him for a second before hopping on.

The wind ripped furiously at his back as he tried to stand, causing Harry to utter a soundless gasp. For the past few hours, he'd been sitting on the ground, too wrapped up in his thoughts to realize how much trouble he was really in.

'The wind is worse when I stand.'

Harry stared about, this time searching, not for his father, but for a form of shelter. A hint of panic struck him when he realized that there was nothing there. Nothing but a huge sea of pure white snow in all directions.

Merlin, what was he suppose to do?

He wasn't a wizard! He couldn't whisk out a wand and spell away the snow and pop away to safety. He was a squib for Merlin's sake! How in the world could he survive this? Harry's breathing quickened in response to his mounting anxiety.

'Daddy where are you?' his mind screamed. 'Please...please.'

During the past years, his father had always been there for him. Whenever anything went wrong, his father was there by his side, ready to make the pain go 'way. But...

A single traitorous tear slowly made its way down Harry's cheek. 'No, I won't cry,' he thought determinedly as he vigorously swiped off the tear. 'He isn't gone. He isn't.' Harry lifted his chin stubbornly. 'Daddy will be back someday. And...'

"And I'll prove that I am strong enough to be with you."

* * *

**London**

* * *

As the sun yawned and breathed out a cascade of reds and yellows onto the sky, teams of thirty wizards and witches strong, carefully adorned with white masks and black cloaks, crept through the slowly lightening streets of Diagon Alley. Like the serpents that they were, the Death Eaters slithered in and out between alleyways and slowly filed into position. 

"Attack on command," Voldemort orderly shortly, his eyes, a strange mixture of emerald green and blood red, stared out at the rising sun behind them. A flicker of guilt flashed across his eyes, as his splintered soul cried out in misery.

Harry. Dear innocent Harry.

His fingers tightened involuntarily about his wand, as a brief thought flashed through his head. 'It's not too late. Not yet,' his mind whispered enticingly. 'You could still save him, you know? All you need to do is Apparate over _there_ and bring him back.'

Voldemort's breathing hitched, as an image of his son's kind emerald green eyes projected itself in his mind. He could still hear, if he listened hard enough, the sound of Harry's melodic innocent laughs and giggles. He could still remember feeling the boy's small trusting hand in his as he taught the boy how to walk.

'Are you sure this is what you want?' his mind queried. 'To sacrifice your son because of your ambitions?'

Voldemort eyes darkened as the sun slowly rose from its silent grave.

'I'm doing this for his own good,' he declared after a long moment of silence. Dumbledore and his Light Order had been watching him like vultures ever since he returned back to Britain. They knew his heritage, he was sure of that. And should they discover Harry's connection to him, he shuddered at what they might do.

While Dumbledore was a Light lord, his followers were not as forgiving or Light as their leader. And Harry, being a squib, wouldn't be able to defend himself against them. And the last thing he wanted was for Harry to be tortured by his enemies. For he knew that, regardless of how hard he tried, nothing would ever last. And one of these days, he'd slip up and the Light would be able to sink its claws into the boy...

It would be far kinder to just let the boy go.

Let him have a swift and peaceful death.

To let his child die in a place covered with the things he'd always loved.

A tired glow flickered across Voldemort's eyes as he recalled Harry's first encounter with the mysterious forces of ice and snow. The boy had been delighted, so utterly astounded that such pure beauty could truly fall from the clouds. And during those winter months, he and his son always made to stay outdoors for as long as possible.

It was their home. The one place where they were both free to be whoever they wished.

At long last, Voldemort raised his eyes and caught a glimpse of the sun in all its shinning glory, emerging from the earth with a power unlike any other.

He had always hated the sunrise before, quoting that it signified the end of darkness. But today...

'Today I'd like to think differently, just this once,' Voldemort thought, with an uncharacteristic gentle voice. 'In a few hours it'll be over, and it will be the start of a new age...'

In a one swift motion, Voldemort waved his wand and jabbed it towards the sky. A thick eerie green plume of smoke emerged, twisting and spiraling upward, forming a sinister shape of a snake crawling out of the mouth of a child's skull.

The Dark Mark.

_Their_ mark. It was a permanent mark of his failure; a mark of his treachery; a mark that glowed with the same power that _his_ eyes had. Voldemort sighed wearily, brushing aside the screams that resounded about the Alley.

_'It's payment,'_ his mind declared. _'Payment for my sins against my son_.'

The Dark Mark would serve as a constant reminder of the path he had chosen, of what he had sacrificed, of his black heart. And it would remind him of his son, the loving child whose innocent giggles and cheerful disposition always managed to tug a smile onto his face. And it would remind him of his painful betrayal - that he was nothing but a serpent tongued bastard . But it was for the best. In death, Harry would be safe from the torturing claws of his opponents and their cruel words. In death, Harry would be free...

Or so he hoped.

'Perhaps things could have been different,' he thought wearily. 'Perhaps if I'd been stronger; if I was not Slytherin's heir; if Harry had been born magical...'

Voldemort shook his head roughly as the first soft pattering sound of rain splattering against the pavement, coating the mud-ridden streets with blood and tears. A bitter smile crossed his face as his eyes slowly turned an empty ruby red, loosing its once brilliant emerald green shade, as he stared up at the glowing Dark Mark in the sky.

It was the beginning of a new age, he was sure of it. With his rise as a Dark Lord and the storm his Death Eaters would undoubtedly cause, the Dark would defeat the Light once and for all.

With a swish of his robes, Voldemort turned his glaze away from the Dark Mark as numerous 'pops' indicated the arrival of the Aurors.

"This new age, Harry, is dedicated to you...my fallen heir," Voldemort whispered, disappearing into the darkness that was now his home.

* * *

**Coast of Scotland**

* * *

'Merlin, I'm going to die,' Harry thought in despair, raised his arm as if to ward off the violent winds and snow. His emerald green eyes, now glossy with unshed tears, tiredly scanned the white wasteland for shelter. 

The wind howled mockingly in his ears. '_There's nothing here for you, little one,'_ it seemed to murmur. _'Nothing.'_

Harry leaned tiredly back onto the ground, lying flat on his back, as the wind and snow sprinkled white snowdrops upon his shivering form. Instinctively he clutched the water-proof shawl tightly as if hoping it'd somehow protect him and his new falcon friend from the storm.

It was useless.

The storm was just too strong. Even the waterproof and anti-breaking charms on the shawl couldn't stop the biting winds or the freezing cold.

The falcon cawed loudly, drawing Harry's attention, as it fluffed up its feathers in desperation. It fixed a weary eye on the young boy who breathed 'life,' whose magic was as warm as the sun. It did not understand why the boy was just lying there. Most large animals tended to find or make their own shelters to ride out the storm.

"What should we do?" Harry whispered, glancing down at his new friend, as his lips turning slightly blue from the cold.

The falcon tilted its head to the side.

"There's nowhere to hide," Harry added, waving his hand wildly about, "It is a wasteland here!" The boy ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "If we don't find shelter soon we're going to die," he finished desperately.

The falcon hopped out of Harry's shawl, receiving a curious glance from said boy. It hopped onto the snow and puffed its feathers out again to insulate itself from the cold. The bird cawed loudly once again as it began scratching and pecking furiously at the snow. A few weeks ago it had seen a pack of wolves dig dens beneath the snow during a storm. Perhaps, like the wolves, his human savior might dig a den as well?

Harry looked confused as he watched the falcon vigorously attack the snow, pecking and kicking it with its wickedly sharp beak and talons. After a few more moments, a small yet visible hole began to form.

'A hole?' he thought puzzled. 'Why would it want me to dig a hole?'

The falcon shivered visibly as it forced itself to lie in the hole for a few seconds before hopping back into the boy's shawl. Harry yelped in shock as the falcon's freezing talons landed on his leg. His emerald green eyes took in the bird's shivering form.

'A hole...'

Harry's eyes widened in realization...

* * *

**Flashback**

* * *

"But _why?_" demanded Harry, as he stared up at his father. "Why did Aegir the Yeti live underground? Snow is pretty! Why didn't he want to live outside?" 

Tom raised an eyebrow, while he deftly wrestled the blanket back around his son. "I'm not sure," he said dryly. "It's a well kept secret that only _Magical Children Publishing_ can answer."

Harry wiggled out of his father's grasp. "You're lying!"

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are!" Harry cried. "You know everything! You're the smartest daddy in the whole world!"

Tom sighed. "Harry..."

"When those old men with sharp teeth come and visit, you always know what to say!" he continued, babbling with an innocent intensity. "And you told me that they're the oldest and wisest creatures alive! And they respect you!" Harry finished stubbornly. "Hence, you _must_ know everything about everything!"

The dark haired man sighed and sank back against the sofa, as he watched his defiant son glare up at him from his lap. "Harry, you flatter me," he drawled, ruffling the boy's hair. "But while I am sorry to dash your illusions about my omnipotence, I do not know why Aegir the _rainbow_ yeti wanted to live underground..."

Harry stared at his father with a mixture of betrayal and horror in his eyes.

"...but," he continued, seeing the tears welling in his son's bright emerald eyes. "I can tell you why yetis _in general_ make their burrows deep within the snow." Tom felt something in his heart lighten as he watched his child's face light up like a Christmas tree.

"Tell! Tell!"

Tom cleared his throat and began explaining. "As you are well aware, Yetis are warm-blooded creatures who originate from the bitter cold mountains of Tibet. Nowadays, they can usually be found in places with a temperatures that average somewhere below -20 degrees Fahrenheit. They usually eat or attack anything in sight that moves. However, with its white coat. Yes, Harry, white, not rainbow," added Tom when he saw his boy open his mouth to protest. "And while its coat serves to insulate it from the icy weather, it is not enough to protect it from the cold..."

"So? Then how does it live?" demanded Harry, as he snuggled up in his father's arms and gave him an expected look.

Tom gave his son a warm smile in return. "Well, it burrows beneath the ground to survive," he explained. "As mentioned earlier in the storybook, the yeti tends to live beneath the ground instead of above. The reason for this is that it is warmer down there."

Harry frowned. "Warmer? How?"

"The snow insulates heat," Tom said patiently. "It keeps the yeti warm and protected from the violent elements above."

"But...how come when I dig in snow I feel cold?" Harry queried. "Shouldn't I feel warm?"

Tom shook his head. "No, the reason you feel cold is because the ice melts. However, if you were to dig deep enough and if the temperature is low enough outside, the snow would not melt."

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. "I don't understand," he complained.

"It's like this," Tom said gently, as he raised his wand and summoned over his son's magical bubble making set. "When you make a bubble you are essentially separating a bit of air from the rest outside."

Harry nodded.

"Now, if I were to put a fly into this," Tom casually transfigured an apple into a fly, and blew a bubble around it. "Since there is a barrier surrounding the air inside from the air outside, should we choose to freeze the air outside it would take longer for the air inside the bubble to cool down to the same degree. Hence, the fly has a better chance of surviving inside the bubble than it does outside."

There was a short pause as Harry slowly processed the information.

"Oh, I get it," Harry said abruptly, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Bubbles create another world for things to live in. So that is why yeti's make their dens under the ground so that the snow separates their home from the outside world."

Tom ruffled Harry's hair and grinned. "That's right, Harry. You're a sharp lad."

Harry grinned while stifling a yawn.

"But not smart enough," he teased gently. "It's too late for you to be up." Tom picked up Harry and carried him into the boy's room.

Harry shook his head in denial. "But I'm not tired," he protested feebly.

Tom raised his eyebrow as he watched his son try to quell another yawn. "Right, I know," he drawled lightly. "But I'm tired. And I need my sleep." He gave Harry a look. "You don't want Daddy to get sick now do you?"

Harry pouted but shook his head.

"That a boy," he said fondly, as he bent down to kiss his son on the forehead. "Good night, Harry..."

* * *

**End of Flashback **

* * *

Harry felt a stab of pain as he recalled his father's warm eyes. Pushing aside the emotion, he quickly began to set forth his plan. Time was slowly running out, and if he and his newfound friend wanted to survive the storm, they needed to somehow dig their way into the snow and make a home. 

They needed to, not change or alter the face of nature, but learn to become one with it...

And Harry, his eyes alight with determination, wrapped his blanket tighter around his body and began to dig, dig, and dig. Even as his hands slowly became numb, as his mind slowly turned fuzzy, he continued digging. In his delirium, he saw an image of his father standing before him. Just always out of reach, beckoning him.

Waiting.

Always waiting.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried. No matter how far he reached, his hands always fell short. He was never strong enough.

Weak.

He was always too weak.

"Don't worry," Harry whispered softly to the falcon, as the wind whipped against his small trembling form. "We'll get through this somehow. We'll survive," he said, trying to convince himself.

The falcon crooned in delight as he felt the boy's warm magic flare brightly.

"I-I'll dig us a cave," he continued, his eyes glittering his strength. "It'll be our home, just ours, until we become strong enough. We'll fight against it all - the prejudice, the hatred, and pity. We'll show the world that there is more to people than their magical power."

Harry choked on his next words, but nonetheless forced it out. "And...and I'll make him accept me. And then, h-he might want me as his son again..."

The falcon nuzzled Harry's cheek. He did not know what the boy was saying, but he could feel the sweet yet sorrowful tone in the boy's magic.

"...he might love me again."

Feeling tears trickle down his face, Harry closed his eyes in pain. However, since he was so districted by his emotions, he failed to notice something rather...unusual happening. He failed to see the blue glow around his hands.

He failed to that they parted the ice hard snow with an ease that was inhuman; an ease that even a wizard with all their magic intact could not even hope to compete with...

He failed to see that he, the abandoned heir of Tom Riddle, was in fact...special.


	4. Survival

**Icy Destiny**

**By:** xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer:** No, I do not own HP.

**A/N:** This is a _transitional _chapter and would most likely come off as a bit _boring_ and on the _short_ side. But there are some points that I must get across before continuing with the story. So yeah, here they are. And I'll update and post something more substantial and hopefully more entertaining next week. Promise :)

* * *

**Chapter 5: Survival **

"Those who have seen your face  
Draw back in fear  
I am the mask you wear." - Phantom of the Opera

* * *

Tears. 

Bitterness.

Regret.

The falcon cawed weakly, taking shelter beneath the boy's slender form as a violently cold gust of ice blew in their direction. It's beetle black eyes focused on the boy's shivering form, frostbitten hands, and dazed eyes.

Caw.

It didn't understand. The child's magic, once so warm and innocent, had begun to falter...begun to slip away.

It was freezing now. Deathly so.

"Daddy..." the boy breathed softly, his eyes filled with longing. "Come back." Harry shook his head slightly as if trying, unsuccessfully, to clear the fog in his mind. "Please? I'm sorry. Come back. I need you..."

The wind roared louder.

Harry sniffled, a weak broken sound emerging from his throat. "Please Daddy?" he begged, shivering violently. "_Please_. You promised me that you'd always be there for me. You_ promised."_

_You told me you loved me. _

_You told me I was your one and only._

_You told me that you'd never let anyone harm me..._

The falcon squawked miserably. The boy's magic, which had once been so strong and brilliant, dimmed. Apparently, the human hadn't finished making his shelter. And now, as the storm raged above, tearing its claws down the boy's exposed back, with a feral gusto.

And Death was to be their reward.

Harry pulled out the silver dagger from his pocket and held it tightly against his chest. It his last link to his father...

_'Forget about that traitor,' a soft voice whispered enticingly in his ear. 'You are stronger than that. You are everything he is not." The voice drifted silently about before whispering gently, "You are pure..."_

Harry flinched at the sound of the voice and seemingly icy cold fingers that trailed across his mind. It was back again.

_'...don't let others control you. Be yourself. Show the world who you truly are; show them what you are capable of doing with your own two hands.'_

The boy shook his head in dismay. But he couldn't do anything. He was a squib. He...was weak.

_The voice turned scornful. 'Or perhaps you aren't worth the bother,' it said coldly. 'Those who don't appreciate their own skills are worthless. Those who aren't strong to take carve their own futures do not deserve to live...' _

"But I don't have any talents," Harry whispered aloud softly.

_'If that is what you truly believe, then perhaps you don't...'_

Harry felt the voice slowly depart from his mind. "Wait..." he asked suddenly, causing the cold icy touch on his mind to pause. "Who are you? What's your name?"

_The voice paused. 'No one of consequence. I am who I am.' And with that said, the icy feeling in his mind disappeared._

And Harry was alone once again...

* * *

**Diagon Alley**

* * *

"M'lord, we have completed our tasks," a Death Eater with a long red stripe across his sleeve, marking him as a squad Captain, murmured. "Diagon Alley is completely in flames. We destroyed and killed everything on sight as ordered." 

Voldemort dipped his head in acknowledgement, meeting the man's ice blue eyes. "And the casualty rate?"

"Miniscule," the man said promptly. "No one essential to your plans was damaged." A few wisps of the man's auburn hair fell onto his death eater mask, as he lowered his head reverently. "Though, a few idiots managed to get their asses fried."

The Dark Lord gave the man a cold glance.

The blue eyed man smiled mockingly, "And to think, it was but my very own father who placed them over the singeing blue fire and blasted them to oblivion" He plastered a worried expression on his face, making his voice high pitched and anxious. "Surely M'lord, you don't expect me to be like_ that._ A murderer?"

"Stop with the historic, Freyr," Voldemort hissed with annoyance. "You_ are_ a murderer. And have been once since you were but the tender age of seven."

Freyr's eyes widened in maniacal surprise.

"But surely you can't blame me, m'lord. My entire family were but a bunch of loony Light wizards," he protested, with mocking amusement. "After all Dumbl-"

Voldemort's eyes glittered dangerously. "Crucio."

The auburn haired captain dropped to his knees and spasmed for moments as the curse struck him point black. Blood trickled down his chin, as his eyes glittering with a strange mix of pain and amusement.

"I must say, m'lord, your tortures are so wonderfully executed," he said sweetly, panting lightly in pain. "Never had I ever felt the ache in my bones, tears in my flesh, and organs rupturing, as I have under your command." Freyr bowed his head reverently. "You are truly a Dark Lord worth following."

Voldemort fingered his wand. "Captain..." he hissed darkly, "Shut up."

Freyr grinned maliciously but dipped his head in acceptance.

"If you were not so important," Voldemort drawled, "I would have put an end to your existence years ago." The Dark Lord looked down at the charred streets and houses that had stood for generations; houses that held the charred remains of pathetic Order members and other light wizards. "After all," he said softly, "revenge tastes best cold, no?

The other man's sapphire blue eyes twinkled fervently.

"Certainly, m'lord. That it certainly does."

* * *

**Forest: Storm**

* * *

No...it was the truth. It_ had_ to be. 

He had always been taught since childhood that advice given by...unheard of voices, should always be wearily obeyed or at the very least considered. Mythical creatures, their names and powers lost within the twisted pages of wizarding history, were far too powerful for one to ignore...

"Caw," the falcon sqwaked miserablly, fluffing its feathers out again in a desperate attempt to stay warm.

Harry paused, his wavering emerald green eyes focusing upon the innocent creature before him. Perhaps the voice_ was_ right. Perhaps he_ did_ have the power to help others; even though he was a squib. Maybe...he could do some good before he passed away.

_'If I'm going to die today. There are no second chances. No reprieves. But there isn't reason for the two of us to die'_ Harry thought, his eyes glittereing with determination.

He could save it - the falcon. At least he could die knowing he'd done the right thing. knowing that he'd helped an innocent.

In one swift move, Harry pulled off the warm shawl from his body and covered the empty part of the hole he'd carved. He ignored the falcon's worried squawk, beckoning the tiny creature into the small snow cave that he'd constructed.

"D-don't worry," he said softly, as the falcon stared up at him expectantly, it's beady black eyes unfaltering. "The blanket has..." he shook his head violently. "I-it has a warming charm o-on it," Harry explained, blinking away the black spots. "Once...storm over...it'll melt the snow. J-just c-cl-aw free..."

The falcon shrilled in dissent.

Harry shook his head. "I-I can't j-join you," he said feebly, "No...r-room."

The falcon clawed angrily at the blanket.

"J-just st-stay alive," Harry said softly, his vision darkening more and more by the second.

He felt so sleepy now.

"Mr. F-falcon..."

Harry trailed off slowly turned to the side, unconsciously flopping over on his back. His eyes, shattered emerald green orbs, stared up at the sky as swirls of white ice blanketed his thin form. His finger weakly traced the snake emblem on the dagger...

"...tell Daddy I'm s-sorry," he whispered aloud.

And right before Harry blacked out, his mind and will reached out in one desperate attempt to find his father. Reached out to say goodbye...

Only to find nothing...

* * *

**Next Chapter: **_Of Fates and Lessons_


	5. Of Fates and Lessons

**Icy Destiny**

**By: xxlostdreamerxz**

**Disclaimer: No I do not own HP.**

* * *

**Of Fates and Lessons**

* * *

Harry mumbled contently as he rolled closer to the fire._ 'So warm,'_ his mind supplied sleepily, as he buried deeper into his sheets. He could hear, if he tried, the soft welcoming chirps and hisses of the wyverns as they prepared themselves for a new dawn. Surely he was back at home. His home was one of the few places in England that was sanctioned by the Department of Magical Creatures to breed and raise wyverns._ "Surely it was nothing more than a dream…'_ he concluded thinking dimly back upon the snow filled nightmare…

"Child, you weren't dreaming."

Harry's eyes snapped open at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. He visibly flinched, as his eyes landed upon a colorfully cloaked figure kneeling next to him. The woman,_ or something that resembled one,_ had bright silver eyes tinged with gold and long thick green hair that swayed about in a hypnotic fashion. Hair that, upon closer inspection, was composed of thick thorny vines and a hive of live vipers…

"W-who are you?" he demanded, backing away in fear.

The woman clucked her tongue in amusement, before shaking her head. "No one of consequence," she repeated softly, her voice light and airy. She adjusted her skirt with a large golden paw and lazily flexed her claws…chuckling lightly as the child's eyes widened with disbelief. _"I am who I am…"_ She hinted, mentally sending her words to the boy.

Harry gasped. _It couldn't be_

"Ahh but it is," she said brightly, meeting the boy's emerald green stare. "I have been following you for the past few years, keeping tabs on you, and analyzing your ever move. And well, to say the least," she said, shrugging lightly, "even though you didn't necessarily take my advice about your father…you are worthy."

'_The Voice,'_ Harry's mind supplied clumsily._ 'She's the one that's been talking to me the last few days? She's the powerful possessor of 'fate' that father told me to be weary of?"_

One of the snakes atop the woman's head hissed threateningly at him, as she frowned. "I don't necessarily control the fates," she stated sternly, "I am more of an eternal protector than anything else, for without me there would certainly be far less order and much more chaos in the world."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked curiously.

The woman smiled, showing a pair of sharp fangs. "Certainly you've heard of me, child," she said sounding amused. "I am the caretaker of the earth. From my love, trees and wildlife flourish. My tears, rare as they are, water the land with rivers and lakes. From my paws, I mold life. I am eternity." She leaned back on his haunches before continuing, "Wizards and Muggles alike have written about me and my protégées for millenniums…Mother Earth, Demeanor, Gia." The woman shrugged lightly. "They fear my wrath and yet demand my love. They have forgotten the importance of nature…"

"I…you're…Mother Earth?" Harry stuttered, his eyes wide with childish shock. "But…I thought you were just a legend!"

The woman snorted softly. "First of all, call me Gaia," she said calmly. "Mother Earth makes me sound so old," she stated, waving her paw dismissively, before returning her attention to the gob smacked child before her. "But honestly, surely you wizards_ must_ have wondered how you bunch came to be. It isn't as if magic just suddenly sprouted out of nowhere and decided to bless a rare few and its descendants," she murmured sarcastically.

"Well…I have," Harry said shyly. "But Daddy always told me that magic is sacred and only the strong should have access to it. He said the purebloods were the best."

Gia shook her head and sneered. "Tom Riddle was a fool. He doesn't and won't every truly grasp the magnitude of his mistakes until it is far too late," she finished coldly. Ignoring Harry's indignant expression, she continued, "But that is beside the point. Your father is going down a path that he must face alone. You will be nothing more than a liability or burden now. It is too late, for he is a fool for trying to destroy the only good thing that fate has ever given him."

Harry leaned forward, eyes bright with anger. "Don't talk about my Daddy that way!" he snapped. "He's a good person and he loves me! And I don't care what he…"

"You don't care that he left you to die?" she retorted coldly.

The child flinched backward as if he'd been physically slapped. "I-it isn't like that!" he stuttered, emerald green eyes wide with denial. "He said that he'd come back for me. He_ promised._"

"Don't play the fool, child," Gaia said sternly. "You know just as well as I do that he deserted you in the middle of a snowstorm for a very good reason…to murder you." Seeing the boy's mouth open in protest, she added, "Surely you understand that he, being a pureblood and all, loathes you for what you have been labeled as – a squib. Don't tell me you've never seen him sneer at you for your inability to cast even the most simple of spells. Don't tell me that he's never been embarrassed to reveal your connection to him when in the company of polite pureblood society. Don't tell me that he's never once wished that you were something that you were not…"

Harry bit his bottom lip as he tried to force away his tears._ Surely the strange woman was lying to him. Surely his father wasn't 'really' like that…_ But try as he might, Harry couldn't find anything to contest Gaia's declarations. His father had always hidden him away whenever he had company over. His father had always stared at him, with a disappointed glint in his eyes. He had always been lacking somehow.

"I-I don't know if I can accept that," Harry whispered softly, lowering his eyes in shame. "Daddy was everything to me…and…I…I don't know what to do without him." The child flinched lightly as he felt a warm paw pat his shoulder, before turning and staring into a pair of compassionate silver eyes.

Gaia sighed softly. "Fear not, with time your wounds will heal."

"I…I…"

The woman wrapped her arms slowly about the trembling child. "You must accept the truth if you wish to make something of yourself," she said gently. "You have so much potential. You can be great. You can be someone strong enough to aid others. You can be a legend."

"But what if I don't want that?" Harry whispered, tears trickling down his cheeks. "I just want my daddy to love me."

Gaia closed her eyes. "Child, it's too late," she murmured, "He has chosen his path and there's no way for him to return…" She rubbing her paw soothingly in circles, as Harry's tears soaked her leaf-patterned skirt. "You, my child, are stuck at a crossroad as well. Choose wisely and perhaps your dreams will come true someday. Choose wrongly and you'll live to loath your very existence. Do not be like your father…"

Harry sniffled, "I…what do you mean?"

"You are pure. You are strong enough to survive the trials of nature. And above all, you are one of the few humans that I've ever met who had chosen to put another's life before his own," she stated, her large silver eyes meeting the boy's startled emerald green orbs. "Harry," she said softly, taking the boy's hands in her paws. "You have power. Power that hasn't been witnessed in millenniums, well at least not since the reign of my last protégé, Merlin."

Harry's jaw dropped._ "What?"_

Gaia laughed lightly, her voice twinkling like silver bells. "Yes child. You possess the power of the elements," she said in amusement. "You wizards have long believed that elementals have died out…thus, you've all become incapable of identifying them." Feeling mildly pleased about shocking the boy from his tears, she continued, "Harry, child, you are not a squib. You could, with the right training of course, have the world at your fingertips. You could bring your wrath down upon a village of criminals in the form of a blizzard or cast a light shower of rain to relieve a country of drought. There is so much you could do; so much!"

The boy stared at her in pure shock.

"Well…that is, given that you accept yourself as my protégé for the next decade," Gaia stated, her eyes hard and serious. "It is not easy to be an elemental and if you so chose to allow me to take you under my wing, you_ must_ obey my every command. You must learn everything that I teach you or else…" she said, her voice turning cold, "I'll be forced to destroy you. Elementals are far too powerful to let lose into the world unless they have enough morals engraved into them. Elementals must learn to overcome all human vices. They need to be the epitome of perfection" Gaia sighed softly as her voice returned to its natural melodic tones. "So I ask you this…Harry, will accept becoming my protégé?"

"I…I don't know," Harry said uncomfortably, his emerald green eyes bloodshot from crying. "I've never had to make my own decisions before. Daddy always chose for me." His voice turned hoarse as he tried to swallow his tears, "H-he always knew what was best."

Gaia patted the boy warmly on the back and waited for him to continue.

"I want to make him proud. I always did. But it just never was enough…" he whispered, as a single tear escaped. "Everything I did was for vein. I just wasn't perfect."

The woman shook her head angrily, as she reached out and tilted the boy's chin so that silver bet emerald. "Harry, child, you are fine just the way you are. You're father was a fool for being blinded by the stereotypes of wizarding society. You needn't worry about that traitor any longer," she said coldly. "This is_ your_ life that we're talking about. Pick a path that you believe will make you happy."

Harry paused for a moment as he slowly absorbed her words. Maybe Gia was right. Maybe it was time for him to grow up… "Very well," he said softly. "I'll accept your training and everything that'll come along with it."_I'll become an elemental so that I can protect others from suffering the pain and loneliness in my heart. I will be strong to help others. I will be someone that__ is worthy…_

Gaia's face broke out into a large grin and she heard the boy's unconscious oath. "Good" she said softly. "You're already taking the first step on a very long journey…"

* * *

**Riddle Mansion:**

* * *

It was done. Harry, his son, was dead...murdered by his own hand.

It had happened so suddenly. One moment he had been out on a raid, torturing his followers for their incompetence, when the magical bond that he and his son had formed suddenly snapped in two. Voldemort had, at that particular moment, been struck with a sense of loss, pain, and agony. He froze mid-speech, his crimson red eyes staring out towards the west…out where he had deserted his son, Harry; precious Harry; his only heir.

Voldemort downed another firewhiskey as he brooded in his study. Three days have passed since the fateful day…and he had still yet to fully recover. Dull crimson red eyes stared into the fire as his skeletal white hand shook as he raised the bottle up against his pale lips. He had chosen this route. He had done the right thing…hadn't he?

He shook his head violently, trying unsuccessfully to clear his mind.

_"Dear ghost,"_ he whispered softly, his eyes drawn towards a bright mahogany frame where his son was smiling brightly and waving happily at him. Voldemort's crimson red eyes softened as he recalled that particular day.

_"Daddy daddy!" his son had shouted, his tiny hand wrapped in his. "It...that thing just winked at me!" Harry shivered as he hid behind his father, poking his head out occasionally to stare at the enchanted hippo stuffed animal. _

_Tom Riddle laughed lightly. "Don't worry child, I'll protect you," he said jokingly, as he raised his wand. "Would it be less intimidating as a giraffe? Or as a pig?" _

_Harry had crossed his arms in mock offense. "Dadddy…" he wined, "You're so mean!" _

_Tom chuckled in amusement as he reached out and ruffled his son's hair. "I take it that this is your way of hinting that you want_ this_ toy for Christmas?" he said fondly, as his son shook his head quickly in denial… _

Voldemort sighed softly, closing his eyes in pain. The boy was gone. There would be no new memories. There was no future with the two of them anymore. He had with a single strike, destroyed his salvation…his only chance at happiness.

Was revenge worth it?

He had given up everything to avenge himself. He needed to destroy the light and everything that they stood for. He_ had_ to. Voldemort steeled himself, his fingers tightening its hold against the firewhiskey bottle. Harry's sacrifice wouldn't be in vein. Every strike, every attack he would make against the Light, would be made in the name of his fallen heir. He needed to_ win_ this war. He needed to at least honor the memory of his deceased child…

But until this time next week…

He would mourn…for Harry deserved at least that much.

* * *

**Dumbledore's Forces:**

* * *

The Dark was rising. Dumbledore could feel it in his bones. There was a sense of urgency in the air, a sense of restlessness. He knew that for some reason things had taken a turn for the worse. The old man leaned back against his chair and he stared out his window.

Clouds.

Dark.

Heavy.

Fearsome.

He knew they had little time left to prepare before the coming storm. He knew, without a doubt that their lives would come crashing down before them. The Light side was still recovering from their last battle against the Dark Lord. They were not ready to fight yet another battle…

But they had little choice.

For with every Light comes Darkness…

* * *

**To be continued…**


	6. Goodnight

**Icy Destiny  
**

**By:** xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer: No, I do not own HP. **

**Note:** Sorry about the short chapter. I'll try to update sometime soon...

* * *

**Chapter 6: ****Goodnight

* * *

**

_"You lie awake every night trying to remember a time when you weren't afraid of your dreams; put on the same disguise…say goodnight to your world, say goodnight…it's the moment of truth – FiveStarFallout"_

* * *

Gaia glided across the stone floor of her den, her long snake-like hair trailed after her, hissing complaints and gossip among themselves. Her silver eyes swept the room, taking note of the dust and grime that coated every inch of the room._ It has been ten years since I've been here; ten long memorable years._ Her feet slowed to a stop and she reached a particularly shabby end table covered with an old yellow lace tablecloth that was placed inconspicuously behind a gigantic fig tree. 

Reaching out her paw, she opened the drawer revealing a yellow, musky, journal that appeared suspiciously blank and ordinary. Gaia's mouth curled into a slight smile as she gently traced the inky splotch at the corner, only to have it slowly reform into elegant calligraphy.

_**Harry Riddle**_

**Age: 15**

**Parents: ** Tom Riddle & Isabella Black

**Classification: **Elemental Mage

The woman shook her head fondly. During the past decade, her ward, Harry Riddle, had grown tremendously. Gone was the wayward child who had cried himself to sleep every night. Gone was the weak sniffling boy who had once believed himself to be worthless. It had taken months, years really, for Harry to fully let go of the anger and pain in his heart regarding his father. She had done everything in her power to teach him how to let go of the past…

_Tolerance is key, child. Forgive, but never forget. _

Elementals were a force to be reckoned with. Thus, they needed proper instruction to keep their emotions and desires in check. They needed to temper their hatred and replace it with kindness. They needed to learn how to put others before themselves.

Gaia sighed, her paw slowly flipping the yellow cakey pages of the journal. She had taught the boy everything that she knew._ It had been a risk training him._ Harry had been filled to the brim with power, so much that it completely overshadowed most magical power measuring tools.

_But…the boy had lost too much._

He was a double edged sword. If Harry were to ignore her teachings and act upon his emotions, she would be forced to take action. Elementals were dangerous as it is and the worst possible thing that could happen to the world, as it is, would be if one would suddenly decide to turn rouge…

The world itself would be in danger.

Harry was an elemental. He had duties to uphold. He needed to use his power properly or else…Gaia's paw trembled slightly as an image of the child's bright smiling face flashed across her mind's eye.

She would be forced to eliminate him.

Merlin had been her first apprentice and though the young man had initially complied and obeyed her. He had grown power hungry. He had, foolishly, gotten involved within the Wizarding World and revealed what he truly was. He had been reveled and feared. He had been great. He was seen as a God among men…and Gaia had been forced to destroy him; forced to completely annihilate his ambition.

She had loved Merlin like a son…but she loved the world more.

So with tears in her eyes, Gaia had done what was necessary. She had, with one false sweep, destroyed the magical society Atlantis and her protégé Merlin by asking the oceans to swallow it up whole. And she had watched, as tears trickled down her face, Merlin fought desperately against her powers to survive but to no avail. She was Mother Earth and no elemental, regardless their strength, would ever be able to go against her will.

Not even Harry despite all his strength and prowess.

Her lips trembled as she slowly put the journal away. It was now Harry's turn to be tested; it was now the child's turn to see if he could handle the responsibility that came with such devastating power. She needed to see how he would react under pressure; she needed to see if he was worthy. Gaia turned abruptly away from the table and moved quickly out of the room, her long leafy skirt swishing behind her. She knew what she had to do.

Tomorrow, Harry Riddle would once again rejoin the wizarding world.

* * *

**Careo Clan**

* * *

A small village lay snuffed within the heart of the forbidden forest where a group of forty strong wizards and Muggles made their home. A group that was as diverse as night and day and yet united group by a curse. No, they were not thrill seekers nor dangerous animal lovers. They were human to the core…or so they believed. For they, being werewolves and all, loathed being labeled as "animals." 

These werewolves were nothing special; just a bunch of like-minded, even tempered, individuals who had been forced together by circumstance. Thus, you could imagine their surprise when, upon the stroke of midnight, a mythical creature woman from their legends emerged from their temple…

Mother Earth. Gaia.

…seeking them for help. They had stuttered; they had blubbered like a bunch of idiots under her amused silver glaze. But they had accepted her task. They had taken it upon themselves to initiate contact with the wizarding world on behalf of their patron goddess.

They needed to, in simple terms, lead and introduce a dark haired teenager to the sights of magical Britain and somehow get him acquainted with magical society.

And Remus Lupin, being the lucky individual that he was, was thrown into the thick of things. It was to be his duty to serve as a guide. Ironically, being that Remus had chosen to reside in this village, per say upon Dumbledore's orders to "recruit" other werewolves, he was far from happy about being forced to babysit...

* * *

_To be continued..._

_**Chapter Preview: Remus shows Harry around magical London and meets a few "interesting" characters along the way...**  
_


	7. Reality

**Icy Destiny**

**By:** xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer:** No, I do not own HP.

**A/N: **I am going back and editing the previous chapters before I continue. So feel free to check back and see if there are any new changes.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Reality **

* * *

Tom frowned in confusion, pausing briefly in polishing the windows with a nice dose of Magical Mess Remover. One second the sun had been shining oppressively down upon them and then whoosh! A thick cloud of ghostly fog began to obscure the street. His mouth dropped to a worried O, exposing his toothless gums, as he spied a dark shape emerging from the dense fog.

Dropping his rag, Tom began fiddling through his pockets for his wand. _Damn thing keeps on disappearing! _His old knobby fingers shook in relief when it finally found the familiar rough texture of his nine inch cedar wand.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Tom jumped, his wand clattering uselessly on the floor. His blue eyes darted about fearfully as if expecting a Death Eater to jump out from the shadows. _Though given the current atmosphere, it wouldn't be that ludicrous._ A wheezy sigh escaped his lips as he caught sight of the strange figure before him. _Certainly a Death Eater wouldn't dress so peculiarly. _

The boy was a little under five six with a shock of wavy black hair and the brightest pair of emerald green eyes he had ever seen. Tom's eyes lit up in mild amusement as he studied the boy's choice of attire: a casual white tee with tan khaki pants, a necklace adorned with feathers from numerous species of birds, no shoes of any sort, and of course, a thick gnarly wooden cane.

"Sorry about that," the boy apologized, proceeding to fetch the innkeeper's abandoned wand.

Tom frowned as he noticed a slight accent in the boy's voice. _How fascinating. I can't place it. His accent seems to have a little of everything in it._ "It's nothing, lad," he said, waving off the boy's apology. "How may I help you?"

"I'm looking for someone by the name of Remus Lupin?" the boy said slowly, his emerald green eyes twinkling up at him. "I was told that he would guide me around the wizarding world?"

"Oh. Muggle-born, are you?"

The boy's face split into an amused smile. "Something like that."

Tom nodded as he led the dark haired lad deeper into the pub. "Lupin hasn't arrived yet as far as I'm concerned," he explained, nodding towards an empty stool in the edge of the room. "He_ always_ sits there; odd fellow that he is." Tom shook his head in amusement. "Don't get me wrong, he's mighty honest and loyal, but tends to keep to himself for some reason…"

--

"Really now," a voice interrupted the duo, sounding amused. "You speak too highly of me." Remus smiled as he heard Tom's analysis of him. He had always had a soft spot for the old man. When he had gotten lost after a day of hectic shopping, the innkeeper had melted at the sight of a teary eyed eleven year old and had given him free room and board while he waited for his parents to find him.

His eyes wandered over and froze as it caught sight of a pair of bright emerald green eyes staring curiously his way. _Lily's eyes._ Remus's heart skipped a beat._ But surely it couldn't be…Lily had died during childbirth. And James..._The werewolf closed his eyes in pain. _His best friend had never been the same ever again._

Remus shook himself out of his stupor and met the boy's stare. "I take it you're Harry?" he queried, stepping forward to meet the teen.

"That's right," the boy smiled, "Remus Lupin, I presume?" he stated, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

The werewolf nodded.

"I must admit, you're much different than I thought you'd be," Harry said cheerfully, giving the werewolf a once over. "Gaia told me you were a drifter of sorts, with one foot stuck in the wizarding world and the other stuck in the werewolf society…"

Remus frowned, as he quickly hushed the boy before looking around to see if anyone overheard. Seeing that Tom had returned to cleaning the window and that the bar was relatively empty, Remus released a relieved sigh.

"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't talk about such things here," Remus said sternly. He paused as the boy shot him a confused glance. "I meant about my…condition," he said carefully. "Most wizards aren't very open minded about dark creatures."

"Oh." Harry closed his mouth with a snap, looking abashed. "Sorry. I haven't exactly kept in touch with the wizarding world for ages. I have no idea how much it had changed."

Remus looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Gaia never allowed me to truly interact with the real world," Harry explained. "She said that I needed to learn how to master myself first or else I wouldn't stand a chance of retaining my sanity in this corrupt, messed up world…"

Remus gapped at him. "That's horrible."

Harry rolled his eyes and waved away his concern. "Really, it was nothing," he said calmly. "Gaia did what she had to in order to keep me safe. Besides as her apprentice, I did have to follow her orders," he said cheekily.

"Right…"

Remus shook himself out of his stupor and promptly shuffled his thoughts to the back of his mind. "Well," he said shakily, "If I am to show you the wizarding world, I supposed we might as well get going."

* * *

Freyr walked confidently into the throne room, feeling mildly amused as he felt his squad trudging ever so slowly behind him. He had, within the past decade, cunningly maneuvered himself into such positions that predisposed him to quickly move up the ranks. He was no longer merely a captain of a Death Eater squad anymore. He had power now.

"M'lord," he said calmly, bowing deeply the moment he felt the Dark Lord's piercing crimson eyes fall upon him. Freyr waited patiently as his troops entered and fell into position behind him before promptly kneeling before their Lord.

"How are the preparations, Freyr?" Voldemort hissed, getting straight to the point.

Freyr looked up and gave a feral smile. "Wonderful, m'lord," he stated. "The troops and dark creatures are ready to wreck havoc again upon Diagon Alley." His electric blue eyes twinkled darkly as if recalling a particularly twisted yet wonderful memory. "We await your orders eagerly."

The Dark Lord's lips curled into a cruel smile.

"Proceed."

* * *

Harry practically bounced from stand to stand, ooo'ing and ahh'ing at almost everything in sight while dragging a bedraggled werewolf behind him. His emerald green eyes were sparking with an almost innocent light as he surveyed the items before him. _Gaia would be surprised by what wizards can come up with when they put their minds to it,_ Harry thought in delight. _I mean…come on! A teacup that can turn into a rat? Ingenious! _

"Hey Remus?" he asked, bouncing at the balls of his feet like a child. "Can you do magic? Like wand magic?" At the werewolf's nod, Harry's smile brightened. "Wouldyoumindshowing me some?" he exclaimed excitedly, his words coming out in a rush.

Remus's lips curled into a slight smile at the boy's excitement. "Sure," he said magnanimously, "What would you like to see?"

Harry's face scrunched up in thought. "Well, can you…" he paused, gathering his thoughts. "…make me completely green with only a wave of your wand?"

"Of course," Remus said with a laugh and silently murmured a spell while pointing his wand at the excited boy before him. The werewolf stifled a chuckle as the boy turned completely green from head to toe.

"Wow!" Harry exclaimed, checking himself out. "I wish I could do magic!"

Remus froze at those words._ Squib? Muggle?_ He stared uncomfortably at the boy jumping happily about before him. It didn't make sense. Why would Gaia, the patron goddess of his clan, take interest in a child who was not even magical? Surely he hadn't been scammed into coming here for nothing?

"You can't perform magic?" he asked gently.

Harry shook his head, a slight frown crossing his face. "No, I can't," he said quietly. "I was born a squib. I can't manipulate magic the same way you wand-wavers can."

Remus winced, feeling slightly guilty at his previous thoughts. As a werewolf, he understood the stigma of not fitting in with society. And he knew that, unfortunately, due to Voldemort's constant attacks against non-magical beings and muggleborns, the wizarding world had developed a slight phobia of squibs. To have a squib born into a magical family was seen as nothing but the worst dishonor. Some families have even adopted a policy of…casting out squib children. Permanently.

"I'm sorry," he said uncomfortably.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, as deep emerald green orbs met Remus's golden brown ones. "But, you don't need to feel sorry for me," he said quietly. "I know who and what I am. I know my place in the world." A sad smile crossed his face, making the boy suddenly look ancient. "If people cannot accept me for who I am, flaws and all, then they're not worth my time."

The werewolf stared at the boy for a long time. "You're right," he murmured. "They're not worth it."

--

It started with a scream.

The shopkeepers, already hardened by the_ massacre_ that they've survived almost a decade ago, promptly tried to apperate away. And upon failing, they instantly offered their customers some floo powder and promptly tried to activate the floo…only to realize that it was somehow blocked.

White face and terrified, the shopkeepers did the only thing they could – panic.

_They were going to die._

_There would be no reprieve this time. _

_Dead dead dead…_

Pandemonium swept across the entire alleyway as a flood of darkly cloaked, masked figures, emerged seemingly from the shadows. The sky rained blood at the whisper of crazed laughter echoed about the alleyway while a sickly green light danced about wildly.

_Death Eaters._

* * *

Harry frowned in puzzlement as the screaming began. "Wha…" he trailed off, catching sight of the werewolf's suddenly pale face and tormented expression. He flinched when Remus quickly snatched his arm and dragged him into an alleyway, ducking behind a trash can.

"Shh…" Remus hissed, motioning for Harry to remain silent. "This is a Death Eater attack," the werewolf explained quietly. "They're the soldiers that work for You-Know-Who. They are cruel and have, for most of the past decade, destroyed various magical settlements across Great Britain and France. They kill 

anyone who does not support their pureblood crusade." Remus's face turned into a bitter snarl. "They've spilled so much innocent blood. So much. They're true monsters."

Harry's eyes widened._ Surely the world couldn't be so cruel._ His heart tightened as he heard the barest whisper of crazed laugher and the resulting screams from the main street. "Who's You-Know-Who?" he asked tightly.

Remus looked at him out of the corner of his eyes. "Voldemort is his name. He's the darkest wizard of the century. People reckon that he is immortal." The werewolf frowned, weighing his choices. On one hand he wanted nothing more than to fight the Death Eaters; on the other, he couldn't just leave Harry here to fend for himself. _There's no way a squib can hold his own against a bunch of Dark wizards. _

"So what are we going to do?"

The werewolf bit down a sigh as he made up his mind. "We need to get you out of here," he said seriously, turning to face the teen. "I don't want your blood on my hands."

Harry shot Remus a peculiar look.

"You're a squib," Remus said bluntly. "You're probably going to be one of the first targeted by the Death Eaters. And to make things worse, you won't be able to defend yourself." The werewolf's hands shook as the screams grew louder. "I promised to show you around here. And for the love of god, I'm not going to let you die on my watch."

"Thanks," Harry smiled, a hint of amusement entering his eyes. "You're a good man, Remus Lupin," he said calmly. "Gaia certainly chose well." His smile grew even wider. "However, I'll have you know that I don't exactly need protection. I've learned some tricks to take care of myself."

"Tricks aren't enough to defeat…"

Harry smirked. "Who said I was going to defeat them?" he said mysteriously.

Remus felt like pulling out his hair. "I don't have time for this," he hissed in annoyance. "People are dying out there. I need to take you away so I can come back and fight."

"I know," the boy's smile fell as his eyes turned serious. "Just trust me on this Remus," he said quietly. "I may be a squib and thus be incapable of performing the same kind of magic as you wand-wavers, but…I can mold the will of nature," he paused, as if trying to find his words. "I am…" Harry trailed off as a rosewood wand suddenly appeared before their face. Feeling a hint of apprehension, Harry turned and noticed a darkly cloaked, white masked figure staring at them.

"Crucio!"

-

-

* * *

TBC

Chapter Preview: Harry meets Dumbledore.


	8. Hated Reflections

**Icy Destiny**

**By: **xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer: No I do not own HP. **

**A/N: **I honestly hadn't planned on getting this chapter out so fast. But somehow...it just happened.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Hated Reflections**

_"Fear can transform even the best of intentions into the worst." _

* * *

Remus flinched, eyes flashing with surprise, as he heard and felt the Unforgivable zoom towards him. At such a close range, there was no way that he or the boy could dodge. So as he watched on helplessly, he noticed that Harry had…dug his hand into the paved street and unearthed a relatively thick block of stone.

_What…_

With an almost practiced ease, the boy used both hands and held up the stone like a shield. After one bright flash of red and one jarring crack from the stone shattering, Harry waved dismissively at the Death Eater…who unfortunately found himself subject to a nasty gust of wind: a tiny maelstrom that sent sharp shattered pieces of stone directly at him.

Remus winced in slight sympathy as the Death Eater screamed in pain, blood streaming from his torn eyes as a particular shard lodged its way inside. The werewolf turned to gauge his partner's reaction: only to meet a wide, disbelieving emerald green gaze.

"Why…why didn't he block it?" Harry murmured, his hands shaking in shock. "It was supposed to have been a distraction." His body trembled as he took in his handiwork. Blood and goo gushed out of the Death Eater's torn eyes as the man clawed his face desperately in pain. When the man let out a low, guttural moan before collapsing, Harry fell back down in horror. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't," he said, looking desperately at Remus.

The werewolf gave the boy's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, while his mind raced to piece together what he had just happened.

_The boy said that he was a squib. He said that he couldn't do magic the way we wizards could, but he didn't say that he was incapable of performing magic._ Remus's amber eyes darkened as he recalled the boy's previous words. _He said that he hasn't had human contact in almost a decade. And if that was the case, he couldn't have any idea how utterly baffling his actions had been. That was why the Death Eater had been too shocked to block. No wizard could have easily hefted a piece of stone from a magically cemented street so easily. No wizard should have been able to wandlessly summon and direct and maelstrom of wind. _

"Is there anything you can do?"

Remus shook his head, feeling a hint of déjà vu. "Not even the best Healers can regrow eyes that have been so traumatized."

The boy stared despairingly at the figure twitching on the ground. He reached out and grabbed Remus's sleeve as he looked pleadingly at the werewolf. "Look, I know he's your enemy and all," he said gently. "But do you think you can spare him the pain? He's human just like yourself. He doesn't deserve to suffer. Do you have any magic that can perhaps put him to sleep?"

Remus gave the boy a hard look. _How can he even ask that of me?_ The line had been drawn almost a decade ago between Light and Dark. It didn't matter what the Ministry "classified" everyone as. The only thing that did was who you chose to point your wand towards in battle. You either lived or died. There was no gray. Death Eaters were evil and were to be killed on sight. He was even aware that the industrious Order sometimes tortured information out of their captives; captives that were sometimes barely even adults. The irony made his heart beat painfully against his ribcage.

The two opposing sides had become mirror reflections of one another.

_I can still remember a time when things had been different,_ Remus thought sadly._ Being Light was __**not**__ worth more than picking a side and living a pitiful existence. He knew that once…it had been more. The Light wasn't defined by popular opinion such as whether Muggleborns should be integrated into Wizarding Society. Nor was it wasn't about the blood feud between – pure, half, and mud; it wasn't about family alliances and feuds. The Light had once stood for honor, honesty, and bravery. It was a beacon of hope for the lost. It was the code they had lived by. _

"Please," Harry whispered, his emerald green eyes staring steadily into Remus's conflicted amber brown ones. "You know it is right."

The werewolf drew in a harsh breath, logic screaming at him to ignore the boy's words. The Death Eaters wouldn't spare him or any of the Light side's fighters. In fact, they would probably try to increase the torment instead of alleviating it. But…Remus felt himself pause as he studied the boy's honest expression. The boy truly meant well. The boy was an innocent…an exceptional one at that. How long has it been since_ anyone_ had even bothered to stop and mourn for anyone other than themselves? How long ago had it been since anyone showed even a hint of unconditional kindness towards a stranger?

_Not in years. _

_Death and suffering had become almost an accepted norm. People had been forced to harden their hearts in order to survive in this blasted jungle of darkness. _

And then there was Harry, a child who had shattered his every expectation. A child whose heart cried out for those who didn't even deserve it; a child who was brave enough to care and let others know that he did.

_Weakness be damned._

"Fine, but just this once," he said grudgingly. Remus bowed his head in defeat, raising his wand with a spell on his lips. And within seconds, the injured Death Eater finally stopped thrashing as he fell into the peaceful arms of sleep.

Harry graced him with a brilliant smile.

Remus looked away, a hint of shame flickering in his chest. _Why is it so hard to do good now? Why? _The werewolf stared down at his redwood wand harshly. _Had he really changed so much?_ _Had he forgotten the language of peace and taken on the cloth of blood and slaughter? Was he, himself, dark in ways beyond his curse? _

"Thank you," Harry said gently.

He gave Remus's arm a comforting squeeze before lightly tugging the werewolf away from the alley towards the main street. "I'm going to help out the civilians," he paused, eyes focusing on the white masked, blood soaked figure on the ground. _Defensive would be best this time. _

Remus gave the boy a measuring look. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

With that said Harry poked his head out from the corner of the alleyway, eyes narrowed and cautious. After taking note of every darkly cloaked, white masked figure on the long street, Harry finally closed his eyes and whispered something under his breath.

_This shouldn't hurt. _

Remus watched with bated breath as the ground suddenly took on a quicksand-like quality in certain areas – areas with large groups of Death Eaters. It was simply amazing. Once second hoards of Death Eaters marched about Diagon Alley like as if they owned the place and the next, they were encased neck-high in pure stone.

Harry smirked in delight. _There we go. If they're stuck in stone, they won't be able to hurt others and they won't be able to get free. So its a win-win situation, _he thought brightly. _And to make things even better, the government should easily be able to arrest and ship these guys off to court. _He felt a twinge of satisfaction as the Death Eaters began cursing and screaming bloody murder.

Yup.

Justice was sweet.

The screaming slowly decreased as the victims clawed their way towards freedom. With the majority of the forces trapped underground, the Light side had little to worry about. But they also had little to fight for…

Except for some…

The ones who had lost someone precious.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he saw a previously fallen victim painfully drag himself towards the encased Death Eaters before proceeding to give them a vicious kick in the head while casting cutting curses at their faces. _Dear Merlin, what was this madness? _

_Wasn't the Light good? Wasn't the Light the innocent ones?_ Harry's mind screamed in denial. _What had the world become?!_

"Harry. _Harry,"_ Remus said, shaking the boy's shoulders roughly. "We need to retreat now before the Ministry comes to "clean up" the mess. They don't take kindly to squibs or werewolves," he said sternly, his eyes softening as noticed where the boy's gaze was focused upon. "The Death Eaters should be retreating. They know better than to cast a _Reducto_ curse to free their comrades since to do so would mean instant death since they're stuck inside the rock. With such low numbers, they can't win."

The boy nodded blankly, his thoughts whirling madly. _Was this the corruption that Gaia had warned him about? Was this what he had to fear of becoming? _

Dark.

Evil.

"Harry. Will you come with me? Please?" Remus asked hesitantly, as he offered the pale boy a hand. "There's someone that I want you to meet. Someone who I believe you could call a kindred soul."

Harry nodded.

After grasping the child's hand tightly, Remus closed his eyes and apparated away; taking his newfound charge to meet the one man he had always revered – Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

**Hogwarts**

* * *

Dully gray hair that framed a pair of equally dull blue eyes stared tiredly down at the grounds as he tried to muster up the strength to make it through another day. He had no idea things could have spiraled so out of control. He couldn't help but wonder if he, himself, had perhaps been the one who had instigated this whole transformation. Could he have been the one to cause the wizarding world to slip down its current slope and into darkness?

_Headmaster._

_Light Lord. _

_Head of the Order of the Phoenix. _

These titles, which had once meant so much to him, were worthless now. What pride could he, as a professor, take when all his students lived each day in the shadow of fear and Darkness. He had watched them grow from slightly naïve, perhaps a bit tainted, souls into beings that felt comfortable in living in such a corrupt world. They conformed to survive. They lost their humanity in a desperate fight to live. A single tear slipped down Dumbledore's cheek as he remembered how_ powerless_ he was to save them. They wouldn't listen to him. They were deaf to him. He had become nothing more than a figurehead.

_Light Lord. _

But how could he, being as Light, as everyone thought…be so blind to the darkness in people's hearts. He should have recognized it from the start when his Order members started bringing in highly sensitive information from out of nowhere. He should have acknowledged the truth when he saw the edges of his Order's blood stained robes after a "talk" with the prisoner. He should have noticed the dark glint in their eyes as they talked about their enemies, Death Eaters. He had been blind. And it was his blindness that had allowed his followers to slowly break away from the Light and migrate towards the Dark.

A bitter laugh escaped Dumbledore's lips.

Even now, those that deemed themselves as "Light" were truly not much different from those who were "Dark." No one acknowledged the principles of the Light anymore. To do so, even in the privacy of one's mind, felt like a betrayal…like a weakness. Honor was dead. Bravery was stupid. Honesty was for fools.

The Light had faded from the world.

And with his death, there would be no more hope. No one else would be willing to hold on to the tiny flicker of Light in a room full of darkness. No one would be idealistic enough to believe even for a second about a better tomorrow. With that, the ideals and beliefs of the Light would die and with it, the Dark shall truly prove victorious.

Dumbledore raised his gaze as he heard the soft sound of knocking against his door. With a slight frown, he shifted from his chair and moved towards the door to open it. Magic shouldn't be his to command for such a trivial thing. He was a failure. And until he made significant headway in the battle against Voldemort, he refused to use magic to help simplify his life. He deserved this.

"Come in," he said quietly, opening the door with a weary sigh.

* * *

-

-

-

TBC

Chapter preview: Dumbledore officially meets Harry. Where does Harry stand? And how does Voldemort play into this?


	9. Who I Am

**Icy Destiny**

**By: **xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own HP.

**A/N: **Look around curiously. Where did all my readers go? Haha I know that before this little updating spree, I haven't been around much...but really (waves) I am alive and kicking. Lol. **Please review**! I LOVE getting feedback! **Its pretty much inspiration to update faster...hint hint**.

* * *

**Chapter 9: Who I Am**

_"Is there a point to wearing a mask?"_

* * *

Harry's emerald green eyes danced with delight as he surveyed the room. Wisps of light streamed innocently about, swirling and whirling as if it had a life of its own. _It was so bright here._ The boy's gaze sharpened upon the man who had opened the door for them. _Gray-hair surrounded the man's tired, wrinkled, face and dull blue eyes studied him wearily._ Harry felt a flicker of alarm as he noticed how sluggishly the light magic flowed about the man's figure. _It was as if he the man had lost the will to live._

"Albus," Remus said warmly, drawing the man's attention. "It's been awhile."

The bearded man's lips tilted into a small smile. "Indeed it has, m'boy," he said fondly, opening the door wider as he beckoned the two inside. "How have you been?"

"Thriving," the werewolf said sardonically, as he flopped down into a plump red chair. "The council has been quite demanding as of late," he said tiredly. "With so many werewolf clans under attack and with so many divided loyalties, they've been finding it difficult to determine who to aid and who to abandon."

Dumbledore dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"As you're undoubtedly aware, the Light's forces have been stretched rather thin," Remus said with a sigh. "In my last report, I mentioned how Voldemort had sent messengers to two prominent werewolf clans with threats of extermination if they failed to comply with his demands." The werewolf pursed his lips in disapproval. "As of last week, they officially submitted to Voldemort's banner."

Dumbledore's eyes closed wearily. "I see."

The werewolf felt a flicker of sadness as he saw how defeated and utterly_ tired_ the mighty Albus Dumbledore looked. _It wasn't supposed to be this way. _Albus Dumbledore was one of the strongest wizards in the entire world. He wasn't supposed to look like this tired, defeated shell of a wizard.

"But this wasn't why I came to see you," Remus said slowly, determined to not be the harbinger of bad news. _Hope. There was hope now._ "There's someone I want you to meet, Headmaster," he said, nodding towards the teen sitting adjacent to him. "This is Harry."

Dumbledore's eyes focused on the wavy haired lad. "Hello," he greeted, meeting the boy's piercing emerald green stare. He gave the boy a quick once over and took particular note of the boy's bare feet, feathered necklace, and utter lack of wizarding attire. "I'm Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of this institution."

"You're a Light Lord," the boy said bluntly.

Eyes widening in surprise at both the boy's audacity and insight, Dumbledore dipped his head in agreement. _How did he know?_ People would could read Auras were exceptionally rare especially during such troubled times.

Remus jumped in, noticing that both wizards were hesitant to continue. "I met Harry here today," he said calmly. "The werewolf council deemed it necessary for me to show the lad around wizarding Britain."

The headmaster frowned. "I thought the werewolves have withdrawn from the wizarding world," he said carefully. "Didn't they say they hated wizards and all things associated with them?"

"Yes," Remus said, a frown piercing his face. "But they made an exception when, Gaia, their patron goddess, bestowed upon them a mission."

"Gaia? As if Mother Earth?"

Harry smiled, catching Dumbledore's disbelieving expression. "She's not any more a myth than either you or I. Though…" he paused, a slight frown on his face, "…I guess it would make sense that you wizards would think so, considering the fact that she has withdrawn herself from wizarding affairs for centuries."

"You, wizards?" Dumbledore repeated suspiciously. "Aren't you a wizard as well?"

The boy tilted his head as bestowed upon him an insolent smile. "No, not in the least," he said brightly. "I'm a squib." Harry nodded towards Remus. "As I told_ him_ earlier, I can't perform magic in the same way as you wand-wavers. I supposed that's because I was born with damaged magical coils. I can't conduct my magic through anything that has been melded together by magic."

"Like a wand."

Harry nodded, a slight mischievous glint entering his eyes. "That's right," he said easily, "Whenever I handle a wand, my magic tends to negate the effects of the core. So pretty much, I end up just waving a stick of wood and mumbling gibberish at someone."

Dumbledore felt his smile grow wider at the dark-haired child's antics. It's been so long since he's meet someone who was this light of heart. It…was a nice change. "Indeed," he said, teasingly. "Your opponents have been scared out of their minds trying to figure out what "spell" you've cast on them."

The boy laughed loudly. "Once, during my childhood, I did just that to a family friend. He didn't sleep for days, thinking that the spell was time delayed. You should have seen how anger he was once he realized that I couldn't even cast magic."

Dumbledore coughed to hide his laughter.

Harry smile widened as he noticed that the streams of light had brightened and were no longer moving as sluggishly about the Light Lord. He couldn't help but feel a hint of pride and satisfaction for cheering the depressed man up a bit.

"You're an interesting lad, Harry," Dumbledore said finally, a twinkle emerging in his eyes. "I think I can understand why Lady Gaia took a liking to you." The headmaster leaned back against his chair and folded his hands together. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you tell me a bit more about yourself? I've never met someone as pure in years. I'm curious how your upbringing could have shaped someone like yourself."

Remus leaned in curiously.

Harry nodded, his instincts telling him to trust the tired old man before him. "Well, as you know I was born as the sole heir to a prominent wizarding family. My mother died giving birth to me and though my father was devastated, he did his best to raise me." The boy bit his lip as he continued, feeling an old twinge of pain in his heart. "He had high expectations for me. I was supposed to help aid him in his endeavors, though I'm not exactly sure what it comprised of, once I was old enough."

Dumbledore's heart went out as he heard the pain in the boy's voice.

"But then, when I turned four, he found out that I was…incapable of performing magic," Harry said slowly. "His beloved heir was nothing more than a squib." The boy ran his hand through his hair tiredly. "To make a long story short, he began to distance himself from me. He hid me away when we had guests over. He just couldn't bear to look at me without feeling disappointment." Harry paused. "When I turned five, he abandoned me in a winter wasteland during the Great Storm. I guess he needed a quick, yet painless way to get rid of me…seeing as how he couldn't muster up the strength to down me himself. So he took the coward's way out."

Remus felt a flare of protective anger. "That's terrible," he hissed. "How could someone do that to their own_ child?_"

"I'm a squib. You know how society views_ aberrations_ like myself." Harry sighed, as he continued with his story. "I don't know how it happened exactly. One second I was about to die, the next I woke up to the smell of incense and the warmth of a hearth. Gaia had rescued me and then asked if I wanted to become her apprentice."

Remus's eyes widened as he was suddenly struck with a realization. "You're an elemental," he breathed, his voice echoing about the room. "That's how you pulled up that rock and blew the shards at that Death Eater."

Harry smiled in acknowledgement. "I can perform magic, just a different sort then the kind you wand-wavers do."

"Can you give us a performance?" Dumbledore queried his body stiff with excitement.

_Perhaps this boy was what would help the Light win the battle against the Dark. Perhaps things are looking up. _

"Sure."

A bright flame erupted on Harry's hand before he casually shaped it into the form of a phoenix. Breathing gently on the fire phoenix, he used the wind to manipulate the fire-shaped phoenix into flying about the room. "I told you earlier that my magic negates when it comes in contact with other magical items," he said gently, as he guided the phoenix to land on an animated lion statue. Within seconds, the fire dwindled to a tiny spark before disappearing altogether.

He glanced at Dumbledore and almost felt the Light Lord's disappointment.

"Look, I know you want me to be your weapon," Harry said softly. "But I'm telling you right here and now, that as an elemental I cannot get involved in a wizarding war. Even if my magic could help, which it can't since we're located in a magical area, I refuse to pick a side."

Remus opened his mouth to protest. "But you stopped the Death Eaters earlier! Isn't that choosing a side?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I was protecting the innocents from the Death Eaters," he explained. "That's different from actively fighting and killing those that belong to the Dark."

There was a long silence as Dumbledore carefully weighed the boy's words.

"If that is the case," the headmaster said slowly, meeting Harry's eyes steadily. "Would you be willing to look after and protect the innocents with us when we go to battle?" He held his hand up to halt Harry's protests. "I'm not asking you to fight with us," he explained, "I'm asking you to protect the bystanders from further harm…either by my forces or Voldemort's."

Remus held his breath as the boy pondered his choices. Though the boy wouldn't fight for them, he could save numerous lives and incidentally turn the tide of battle. If the Light side believed that they would be protected, they would be more inclined to stand their ground and fight instead of running for cover. The boy was exactly what the Light side needed.

"Alright," Harry said carefully, "On one condition."

Dumbledore nodded wearily. "Yes?"

"No one outside of this room will be informed that I am an elemental," he said sternly, eying both Remus and Dumbledore. "I have no intention of being a pawn for either side. And if they were to find out about my abilities, I would be pressured by everyone to actively fight, which I will clearly not do. I will only help you on my terms."

The headmaster nodded in acceptance. "How do you want to be introduced then? I'm sure the Order, the organization that I run, will question why you are incapable of using a wand."

Harry shrugged. "Let them know that I'm a squib."

Dumbledore chewed his bottom lip uncomfortably as he imagined his Order's response. He winced mentally. For him to allow a_ squib_, disgraced magical folk, to fight alongside of them would anger his forces like no other. "You are aware that some might…take offense to you if you let them know your heritage," he said gently. "It would be much simpler if we make up a cover story – perhaps one regarding a curse going awry?"

The boy stiffened.

Seeing Harry's discomfort, Remus quickly clarified Dumbledore's words. "Don't misunderstand," he said gently. "It's not that the headmaster is embarrassed to be associated with you," he explained, "He has nothing against squibs or any other magical creature for the matter. He's just worried about how you'll be treated by some of the high-born wizards for being a squib."

Harry shook his head, lips pursed in annoyance. "I am what I am, headmaster," he said calmly, his emerald green eyes as cold as ice. "I'm not afraid of failing to fit society's constraining mold," he whispered. "If your followers hate me for who I am, then so be it. It makes no difference to me, for I know and accept that I am a squib by your standards. I cannot wield a wand. I cannot mold my magic in the same way you bunch can." Harry paused to emphasize his last words.

"I am not afraid to be different."

* * *

**The Throne Room**

* * *

Voldemort hissed in displeasure as he cursed the man posturing before him. "What do you mean you failed?" he demanded. "Are you that much of an imbecile that you lost to a bunch of defenseless_ merchants?!"_

Freyr whimpered in pain as deep cuts appeared on his skin. "No, m'lord," he gasped out. "Something was different this time. The Light resisted."

The Dark Lord's anger grew at those words. "Resisted?" he repeated. "Of course they _resisted,_ you bumbling fool! Anyone would fight to save their own skin." His wand sparkled dangerously in response to his mounting fury.

"M'lord…"

"You have failed me, Freyr," Voldemort whispered dangerously. "Perhaps I was wrong to overlook your bloodline," he spat. "Those born to the Light cannot ever escape its disgusting grasp."

The auburn haired man raised his eyes defiantly. "I'm not Light, m'lord," he said slowly, trying to contain his anger. "I slaughtered my entire family when I was only seven. Surely a Light wizard wouldn't ever dare even raise their wand against their_ beloved family,_" he spat.

"Crucio."

Freyr screamed in pain as his Lord's curse ruptured veins and tore imaginary slices through his muscles. When the pain ended, he gave a short crazed laugh as he relished the aftermath of the Dark Lord unforgivable. "As I said before, m'lord," he said with a insane chuckle, "Your crucios are wonderfully executed."

Voldemort resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Finish your report."

The Death Eater nodded, pushing his upper body off the ground. "Of course," he said, regaining his professionalism. "The resistance was different than usual. Things were looking in our favor, until…something peculiar happened." He paused trying to find the right words to explain the incident. "It was as if the ground liquefied and swallowed the Death Eaters whole. It wasn't exactly a spell…since the ground solidified the moment the Death Eaters were trapped underground."

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed.

"I don't how it happened exactly or whether the person responsible worked for the Light," Freyr explained. "They spared the Death Eaters lives by keeping their heads above ground. No one, except_ Dumbledore,"_ he spat out the last word like a curse, "…would have given anyone such a mercy."

Voldemort tapped his wand curiously against his throne as his mind raced. _There was a new power on the board now. One that wasn't exactly claimed yet._ His crimson red eyes glittered cruelly in excitement. He would find out who had dared challenge his might…and crush them.

For the first time in a decade, Voldemort felt alive.

-

-

TBC

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**Next Chapter: Harry meets the Order while Voldemort viciously hunts down information about his new opponent. **


	10. Dancing with Fire

**Icy Destiny**

**By: **xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own HP.

**A/N: **I'm not planning on following J.K Rowling's Timeline since I just realized that if I did, Voldemort would have had Harry when he was pretty damn OLD. So I'm going to screw things around a bit. Lily, James, as well as most of the Canon adult characters will be born earlier (not by much, but enough so that Harry remains younger than they are). Most of Harry's classmates – ie, Ron, Hermione, etc – will not play a part in this story. Secondly, in regards to the fact that Harry's elemental magic gets "canceled out" when it comes in contact with magical items…this only applies to wizard-made items. He is able to manipulate natural magical items with ease. Lastly, someone asked if Merlin was a wizard. The answer to that is yes. Thanks for the reviews!

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**Chapter 10: Dancing with Fire**

* * *

_Three year old Harry stared up solemnly at his father. Taking a hesitant step forward, he slowly wrapped his arms around his father's leg and buried his face against his cloak. He choked back a sob as he felt his father stiffen uncomfortably. _

"_Daddy…"_

_His father had been wondering for the longest time why he, at the tender age of three, had yet to perform any accidental magic. So with that in order, Tom had taken him to a private clinic where a kind, red-head med-witch had diagnosed him as a squib. Harry's bottom lip trembled at the memory. His father had been so shocked at the discovery that he had failed to hide the horror and…disgust from his face. _

"_What is it, Harry?" Tom said stiffly, making no move to embrace his son. _

_The boy bowed his head and tightened his hold upon his father, as if fearing the man might disappear. He wanted his 'Daddy' back. He wanted things to go back to the way it was. He wanted his father to love him again. "Do…" Harry sniffled, before looking up and focusing his bright emerald green eyes upon his father's stoic face. "Do you hate me now?" he whispered. _

_There was a long silence, as the elder man met his son's tear-stained eyes before looking away. "No, Harry," Tom said softly. "No, I don't hate you." With a partly forced smile, he reached down and ruffled his son's hair. _

"_But you don't even look at me anymore," Harry whispered, his childish voice breaking._

_Tom sighed softly, feeling even colder when confronted by his child's soft accusation. He gently pried his son's fingers from his robes, ignoring a whimper of protest, before kneeling before the boy. With a hint of hesitation, he slowly reached up to cup his son's chin. "I'm sorry," he stated, not offering any excuses for his actions. "I didn't mean to hurt you, little one."_

"_I know." Harry fiddled with the edges of his robes, ducking his head in a combination of shame and embarrassment. "I'm sorry that I'm a squib," he said childishly. "I didn't mean to be one."_

"_I know." Tom's shoulders hunched tiredly, suddenly feeling much older than his thirty one years. "You are who you are, Harry," he said softly. "Even though it'll take…time for me to adjust to your new situation, you shouldn't be ashamed of who you are." Tom struggled with his next words, feeling the hypocrisy tainting his advice. "If you are to be a squib, then just make sure that you'll become the best squib that you can be."_

_A wide smile broke out on Harry's face._

"_Ok. I promise."_

* * *

Deep within the caverns of his current hideout, Voldemort suddenly jerked awake. A soft hiss escaped his pale white lips as he recalled the dream. His skeletal white fingers tightened its hold on his sheets as memories from a long forgotten past danced tauntingly before his mind's eye.

_Dear ghost, why must you haunt me so?_

He didn't know why he chose to endure this. If he wanted, he could have caged these memories and buried them deep within the recesses of his mind, never to be heard from again…Voldemort allowed a bitter chuckle to escape his lips. Despite his acceptance of his son's death, he hadn't been able to wash the blood of his hands. And to be honest, he wasn't sure if he wanted to…

Voldemort closed his eyes tiredly.

The Darkness was slowly devouring him. Even now, as he lay in bed, he couldn't help but feel something prodding him to actively torture. Voldemort's lip curled into a self-loathing smile. He had chosen this path and accepted all the burdens of turning truly Dark…he hadn't minded the imminent insanity nor the ice that enveloped his entire soul. His only regret was that he didn't want to forget…

_Is it foolish to love a memory, child?_ His mind whispered. _If you were still here, would you laugh at me? Or would you kill me? _

The Dark thrived on negative emotions and anything remotely "Light" was purged from his memory until it became nothing more than a shadow. Voldemort's breath hitched as yet another memory flashed across his mind. He wanted this. He longed for this. To…be able to see his dear child once more, even if it was nothing more than as a memory.

He couldn't forgive himself for his transgressions. To do so, he would be forced to relinquish his memories of his beloved heir…and that, in itself, is unacceptable. He needed to continue to suffer in order to keep the Darkness convinced that such memories were not worth destroying. Crimson red eyes flared open in determination.

_I won't forget you, my fallen heir. _

--

* * *

**Forbidden Forest**

* * *

His hand gently trailed a path across the ragged bark of an Elm tree. A small smile graced his lips as he felt the tree's spirit raise in greeting, willingly relinquishing some leaves as a gift. Harry knew that the tree could feel the bitter scent of winter in the distance. Whispers of darkness. Whispers of light. The Elm lightly moved its branches and shed a few more leaves, allowing it fallen to wrap itself protectively around Nature's Child.

"Thank you," Harry said, his eyes shining gratefully.

The tree spirit brightened one last time before retreating back to continue its slumber.

The boy continued his trek through the Forbidden Forest, his bare feet digging comfortably into the dirt. Random shrubs and brush reached out to pat and hug him before reluctantly moving aside for the Elemental. He gently raised his magical aura, feeling more than seeing the forest thrum in delight.

Harry had discovered early in his training that as an Elemental, his magic sometimes made plants appear sentient. It wasn't so much as if they could think on their own or that they would obey his orders...but rather they became strangely attached to him. Harry tilted his head in mild amusement as a tendril of poison ivy latched jealously about his waist.

"Hello there."

He placed a hand on the vine and stroked it soothingly while whispering something under his breath. After a few minutes, with a strange air of sadness, the vine slowly retracted itself from his person and returned to its previous position. Harry continued deeper into the forest, ignoring the darkness and the thin spots of light appearing from the dense canopy.

He needed to find somewhere to meditate.

He needed to organize his thoughts.

He needed to restore his balance.

Harry ran his hand through his hair in mild frustration as he recalled the events that had transpired earlier that day. Though he hadn't truly expected much from Dumbledore's precious Light Wizards, he had been knocked sideways by how prejudiced and corrupt they were. It was like watching a bunch of Death Eaters plot and plan their next mode of attack.

"_Really, a squib?" The man sneered at Dumbledore, before hiking his gaze up and down the boy's form with an air of disgust. "Headmaster, surely, you don't think our forces have become so desperate that we would need and accept help from the likes of...them," he said, emphasizing the last word. _

_Harry closed his eyes in disbelief, shocked by the sheer amount of hatred that he felt directed towards him. He paused as he felt Dumbledore's hand tighten protectively about his shoulder before proceeding to give his follower a pointed glare. _

_This wasn't supposed to be happening. He wasn't supposed to be making things more difficult for the tired o' Light Lord. Dumbledore shouldn't have had to choose between him and his Order. It should have been simply. He would join and provide aid from the background._

_Hell. He wasn't supposed to be causing trouble. _

"_Look," Harry said evenly, shrugging off Dumbledore's protective hold and stepping forward to meet the man's dark eyes. "I know that you and your fellow wizards don't want me to join you on the battlefield," he said calmly, ignoring the taunts and insults that were kindly delivered his way. "And for your information, I have no intentions of doing so." Harry squared his shoulders in defiance. "I've been trained in medicine of sorts and I can help patch up the wounded."_

_The man raised his brow tauntingly. "How could you help when you can't cast magic?" _

"_By non-magical means of course," he said stiffly. Harry's face tightened as he fought to leash his anger. These wizards were so…blind, ignorant, and worthless. "If you want, I can limit my…services to Muggles only. They aren't familiar with magic and would feel more comfortable being treated by Muggle means," he finished. _

_The wizards exchanged hesitant glances before nodding in acceptance. Loathe as they were to allow a squib to join their ranks, Dumbledore had insisted. And so long as the brat stayed out of their way, it shouldn't be that hard to tolerate the boy's presence. _

Harry rubbed his temple tiredly, as he finally plopped down on a smooth black rock. Not for the first time since he had arrived, he couldn't help long for the stilted tranquility that Gaia's fortress had provided. At least there, he was safe from the flocks of ignoramus, prejudiced sheep. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on slowly relinquishing his tightly wound temper.

Even if he wouldn't admit it aloud, the wizards' words had struck at some old wounds. His temper flashed at the memory. _Squib._ Why was everyone so determined to hate? He wasn't utterly useless just because he supposedly lacked magical powers. He had a mind of his own. He had the will to carry out his own dreams. He was human just like the rest of them.

Harry's gaze darkened, as a certain image flicker to the front of his mind. _Tom Riddle._ The one man who he had loved and trusted above all. The one man who had attempted to murder him. His magic thrummed dangerously as it reacted to his anger and pain.

_I want to hate him. _

_I wish I could afford to hate him. _

He bowed his head as some foliage attempted to rub his back soothingly. To be honest, he didn't' know that to think about his…father. The man had been his sole companion and playmate for his first few years of life. The man had loved him from the bottom of his heart. And even if his actions had been regrettable in the end, he did it out of love. Many families often locked up and even tortured their squib children in some mad hope of cleansing the blemish from their magical family tree. Harry sighed once again. In that regard, he had to be thankful that his father had chosen to stray from the typical mold.

_But he betrayed me all the same. _

Tom Riddle had been far too obsessed with some 'journey' that he had needed to go through. He hadn't been too forthcoming to his son about the details, but Harry did know that his father had intended to change the wizarding world.

_Was your quest more important than your son? _Harry's mind thought beseechingly._ If you had a chance to do things over again, would you still sacrifice me? Or would you allow me to trod by your side through all of eternity? _

A small, taunting smile emerged upon Harry's face as he realized how utterly absurd he was being. His father was most likely comfortable with whatever cushy position he had landed. The last thing he probably wanted would be for his supposedly dead squib heir to make an appearance. Harry chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, before he made his decision.

_I'll leave you be, father, _he promised mentally._ Feel safe in knowing that I won't push myself upon you and force you to acknowledge me. If we meet again…we will meet as strangers._ With that said, Harry closed his eyes and prepared himself to begin meditating.

_This time I'll be strong. _

_--_

* * *

**Voldemort's Hideout**

* * *

A darkly clocked man entered the throne room, long platinum blonde hair trailing elegantly behind him, as he bowed deeply to his Lord. Lucius raised his steely gray eyes and met the Dark Lord's burning crimson red ones. "I've some interesting information, m'Lord."

The Dark Lord impatiently beckoned the man to continue.

"After deep investigation, we have uncovered that the mysterious force from the Diagon Alley Battle used none other than elemental magic," Lucius stated, a hint of discontent entering his voice. "The Ministry is up in shambles trying to determine who their mysterious 'savior' is."

Voldemort nodded briefly, as he rolled the word around his tongue. _Elemental magic._ The Lost Arts. Magic that was lost during Atlantis's destruction. A dark grin appeared on his face, causing Lucius to flinch. This mysterious opponent was becoming more worthy by the second. "Have they had any breakthroughs?"

"No, m'Lord," Lucius cleared his throat nervously. "The Ministry tried performing a scan throughout magical Britain for abnormally large magical signatures. They located only two – yours and Dumbledore's. This elemental wizard has to either be exceptionally strong to evade the Ministry prods or is simply too weak to show up on the radar. I'm assuming it's the former."

Voldemort's smirk grew wider. "Perhaps," he said cruelly. "But either way, it'll be entertaining hunting this figure down." He hissed something under his breath to Nagini who hissed darkly in return. "I haven't had an adequate challenge in ages."

-

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* * *

**TBC**

A/N: Sorry this chapter was a bit rushed and not very well written.

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	11. The Lines of War

**Icy Destiny**

**By:** xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer:** No, I do not own HP.

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've last updated. I assure you that I'll update this story at least before the end of the month. Haha so yeah, I really hope you like it! REVIEW please!!!  
**

* * *

**Chapter 7: The Lines of War **

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-

Six months have passed since Harry had joined Dumbledore's group of merry men and fought alongside the Order. It had been decidedly rough at first given the stigma that the wizarding world attached to Squibs, but over time…it had gotten progressively better. Harry rolled his eyes. Well, at least they were not longer trying to curse him whenever Dumbledore wasn't paying attention. _That_ at the very least had to count for something.

_ All in all, things were definitely looking up._ He declared optimistically, as he leaned fondly against a particularly old oak tree. He had, for the last couple of months, been assigned the role of a "Muggle Medical Technician" and due to his apparent "lack of magical power" he was not allowed to partake in battle. And frankly, he wasn't all that disappointed.

After all…he was hardly that fond of either side.

Harry frowned as his gaze followed Dumbledore's bright purple figure, watching dispassionately as he mowed down a hoard of Death Eaters. He heard screams, bitter laughter, insane cries…

They were all the same.

In a world filled with such bloodshed, there was no such thing as good or evil.

Harry looked away, disgusted by the scene. He couldn't believe that he had once been so excited to return to the Wizarding world. He couldn't believe that he had forgotten how cruel and narrow-minded humans could be. He felt a flicker of uncertainty. _Am I the same? Could I truly be capable of such cruelty? _

He didn't know…

And that was what scared him.

-

-

-

Voldemort scanned the perimeter coldly. After his Death Eaters' numerous failed attempts to locate the supposed elemental, he decided to take the situation into his own hands. During the last few raids, he sought to puzzle out the elemental's peculiar behavior; after about three raids, he'd finally managed to discover a pattern.

The Elemental never emerged until the battle was over. He had never harmed or attacked any witch or wizard, regardless of their affiliation. It appeared as if the wizard was only interest in preserving lives.

Voldemort sneered at the sentimentality.

Nonetheless, the Elemental could potentially turn the tide should he choose to fully side with Dumbledore. Which is why he'd chosen to bid his time here…disillusioned, hoping to somehow catch a glimpse of his most powerful enemy.

-

-

-

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion, catching a slightly fuzzy disturbance on the cliff about half a mile away. Raising his hand discreetly, he mentally forced his magic towards the source and asked it to strip away the enchantment piece by piece.

_Why haven't you disappeared? _

His magic was the antithesis of wizarding magic; it was usually negated enchantments and spells the moment they 'touched.' Harry frowned in confusion as he forced more of his magic towards the now fuzzy outline of a darkly cloaked figure. The spell wavered, but stubbornly held…causing the figure to appear invisible once again.

Harry's eyes were wide with curiosity. _Dear Merlin! That wizard was either so stubborn that his magic refused to disperse or he was so magically powerful that the spell couldn't be fully nullified. _He smiled childishly, sending a strong gust of wind towards the invisible figure. _If he won't reveal himself, then I'll just have to make him. _He thought gleefully.

_-_

_-_

_-_

If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn the wind seemed to be laughing at him. Voldemort's lips thinned in annoyance. _It had to be that blasted elemental!_ His crimson red eyes carefully searched the perimeter of the village, hoping to catch sight of the wayward elemental.

A pile of leaves suddenly fell from a nearby willow tree, covering his abet invisible self under a pile of leaves. Voldemort's eye ticked dangerously.

_He dares_…

His wand sparked in fury as he viciously canceled his disillusionment spell. There was little point hiding now that he'd be found. Voldemort calmly walked to the edge of the cliff, intent on joining the battle. He saw his Death Eaters pause as they caught sight of him, only to resume fighting even more viciously than before.

_No one makes a fool out of me and lives to tell the tale._ He thought furiously, as he made he flew off the cliff towards Dumbledore. _If that damn Elemental won't let me have a piece of his hide, I'll take Dumbledore's instead. And if even that won't pull that coward out of hiding, I'll bleed this town dry._

-

-

-

Dumbledore felt a flicker of trepidation, when Voldemort suddenly swooped down upon him like some evil bat from hell. His hand tightened on his wand as he waited, seemingly cordial, for the Dark Lord to land before him.

_Dear Merlin, it's been far too long. _

It had been years since he'd last seen Voldemort face to face. Their last encounter had been almost five years ago. He had tried, then, to make Tom see the light. He had believed that the late Head Boy was capable of being redeemed. But…what he had learned made him question whether the Tom he had known had truly disappeared. Dumbledore's face tightened at the memory.

_"Tom, stop being ridiculous," he had murmured, ducking a particularly vicious hex. Dumbledore waved his wand in a spiral and conjured a metal shield which blocked the Killing Curse with a solid bam. "You can't possibly truly believe in your cause!" he argued. _

_Screams echoed about the street as a wayward spell demolished a nearby building. _

_Voldemort's lip curled in disdain. "Pray tell, how did you come to such an absurd conclusion?" He flicked in wand behind him, sending a particularly large piece of rubble towards the Headmaster, which the older man easily blocked. _

_"Because I've seen you with your son," Dumbledore said, breathing heavily from the fight. "That time the two of you went to Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor…" His expression softened, even as Voldemort began casting in earnest. "You love the boy, Tom. Even I couldn't deny the love between the two of you."_

_Voldemort's eyes glittered wildly. "Shut up." _

_"It's not too late to turn back," Dumbledore said beseechingly. "Your son is a squib, Tom. How do you think he'll feel once he finds out that you're persecuting others like him?" The headmaster hissed in pain as one of Voldemort's curses made contact, splattering his blood onto the ground. _

_"He won't care," Voldemort whispered, breathing heavily._

_Dumbledore gave the younger man a harsh look. "Of course he will! He may love you, but I'm sure there's only so much he can take before he chooses to walk away."_

_It began in soft, hysterical rasps before erupting into full fledged laughter. Voldemort's expression was that of a crazed madman, as he strode forward towards the Headmaster. "Your precious Order is not as proficient at collecting information as you may believe." _

_Dumbledore forgot to breathe as he watched Tom's crimson red eyes fade into a familiar emerald green. "What do you mean?"_

_Voldemort's voice was as cold and clipped. "You wrong to believe that…Har..." His voice trembled, unable to say his child's name. "... that I'll hold back because of **him**_."_ He released a shrill laugh that bordered on insane. "And do you want to know why that is, Dumbledore?" _

_Dumbledore swallowed, feeling that he was crossing into dangerous territory. "Why?" _

_"Because he is dead," he whispered. Voldemort's eyes were unreadable as he continued onward coldly. "…Dead by my hand." His hand tightened around his wand, as memories of his son…of his child…flickered across his mind. "He stood in the way of my ambitions…so I disposed of him." _

_Dumbledore gaped at him. "But you loved him!"_

_"Perhaps." Voldemort turned his head aside, heart constricting in pain. "He was a distraction that I could not afford." He raised his wand. "But know this, Dumbledore…I am beyond redemption. Don't waste your time trying…"_

_"Crucio!" _

And with that memory done, the battle commenced.

-

-

-

"Dumbledore," he spat, meeting the old man's piercing blue eyes. Voldemort motioned towards the burning village and hissed, "Tell me about this Elemental of yours or else I'll personally make sure this place is bled dry…starting with you."

The headmaster licked his bloodied lip. "I don't know any Elemental."

"Crucio!"

The old man bucked and whimpered under the power of the curse. _Dear Merlin, I'm too old for this._ Dumbledore coughed up some blood, as his mind whirled with morbid thoughts._ Though, to be fair, I won't need to worry about that anymore…since chances are, I'm not going to see this war through. _The Headmaster's eyes were bright with unshed tears as he struggled to rise.

Voldemort raised his foot and viciously pushed the headmaster down. "I'll give you one last chance, Dumbledore," he hissed. "The Elemental…"

The old man shook his head, feeling lightheaded at the movement.

"Very well, you've dug your own grave…"

"Avada Keda-"

-

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-

"Stop!" Harry shouted, sending a vicious blast of wind at the offender. His heart tightened with guilt as he stared at Dumbledore bloody form. _I shouldn't have followed his orders. I should have intervened earlier. _He quickly removed some bandages and tried to halt the bleeding.

_He really needs a doctor. _

Harry raised his hand and Dumbledore's body began floating beside him. He closed his eyes and suddenly Dumbledore's body was cloaked by a hazy barrier of wind. Taking a deep breath, he urged the cushion of air to move on towards Hogwarts…transporting the injured man to safety.

-

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-

Voldemort watched, with a mixture of fury and amusement, as Dumbledore literally flew away on thin air. He barred his teeth in delight. The Headmaster was of no consequence…he had been nothing but bait. The Elemental was who he had truly been hunting.

"Finally," he hissed, watching with delight as the dark-haired youth jerked in surprise before turning towards him.

And for the first time in almost a decade, crimson red eyes met emerald green…

-

-

* * *

**TBC: **Harry and Voldemort meet face to face.


	12. Hold Me

**Icy Destiny**

**By: **xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer: No I do not own HP.**

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**Chapter 12: Hold Me  
**

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_"Up!" _

_Tom smiled fondly and gently picked up the wiggling form of his two year old son. He shifted the boy and leaned forward to peck the boy on the nose, causing Harry to giggle in delight. "You're getting quite heavy, child," he murmured, as Harry snuggled into his arms. _

_"M'not fat," Harry pouted. _

_Tom's lips curled in amusement. "Of course not," he said evenly. _

_The boy gave his father a considering look before smiling brightly, all things forgotten. "Okay," he said cheerfully, reaching up to play with his father's wavy black locks. They were so shiny and soft! It was then decided that something that shiny had to be tasty! Harry reached out and gave the lock a hard pull… _

_"No, eating hair," Tom chided gently, having mentally prodded his child's thoughts. "I promise it won't taste good." _

_Harry gave his father a sad look…_

Voldemort jerked back to reality with a start, meeting the elemental's emerald green stare curiously. He didn't know why it was that memories of _him_ suddenly decided to surface. His jaw clenched in both self-loathing and frustration. _Of all the colors, why did the elemental's eyes have to be the exact same shade as Harry's?_

"What's your name, Elemental?" Voldemort demanded, his voice not as harsh or cold as he would have liked.

The boy stared up at him with unabashed curiosity, tilting his head to the side to get a better glimpse of the Dark Lord. He shifted his posture like a bird would; it was almost as if he was trying to study him from all angles. "My name is Harry," he said finally.

_Harry? How dare he possess the same name?_ Voldemort grinded his teeth angrily, shooting the boy a dangerous stare…with which the boy met unflinchingly. He had no reason to both conversing with the child. He should have gone ahead with his plan and eliminated the Elemental from the start. But…Voldemort's hand tightened against his wand…after years of mindless torment over his son's murder, he wanted some reprieve. He wanted to...

"Are you the Dark Lord? The one whose name everyone is afraid to say?"

Voldemort studied the boy, taking in his appearance. The child looked about sixteen years old and was wearing the most peculiar outfit – a shirt patched from leaves, khaki pants, and no shoes. He paused as he really_ looked_ at the boy. Dark wavy black hair, high cheekbones, and a particularly familiar pair of emerald green eyes. His heart thumped loudly in his chest.

"I am," he hissed, refusing to take his eyes off the boy. The resemblance was uncanny. _But it was preposterous!_ Voldemort's ire heightened, as his heart and mind battled for dominance. _He couldn't possibly be my child. Harry was a squib. He couldn't have survived the storm…" _

Instead of backing away in fright, Harry's expression brightened with curiosity. "Really now," he said, interestedly. "I've been waiting to meet you for quite some time now." Harry paused, lips quirking into a smile. "Well, maybe not that long, I suppose. But I do have some questions for you…if you'll answer them that is," he said as an afterthought. "And then we can fight afterwards?"

Voldemort's head spun. _I can't believe someone is negotiating with me! _

Most people either burst out in tears or dug out their wand and cursed him with every spell they knew. "Why do you want to speak to me?" he spat, feeling decidedly frustrated that he couldn't raise his wand to the boy until he uncovered the truth. "Are you getting tired of being Dumbledore's little attack dog?"

Harry looked unaffected at Voldemort's little dig.

"Attack dog?" he scoffed, "I've hardly ever fight actively beside Dumbledore's Order." The boy sighed, feeling decidedly tired. "But yes, I wanted to ask you why you chose to instigate this war...and what your aim is?"

Voldemort resisted the urge to both crucio the boy and pat him on the back. "To create a pure, dark society of course,"_ And hurt them as much as they've hurt me. _He sneered, carefully weighing the boy's expressions and behaviorisms. _They were so similar. _"Hasn't Dumbledore brainwashed you yet?"

This time Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course not," he said evenly. "He's a Light Lord, for Merlin's sake! He wouldn't deprive someone of their free will." He paused, before adding, "Though…I do suppose he does make it a point to constantly prattle on about how 'evil' you are." He shrugged lightly. "But it's not his fault that his followers follow his suggestions almost blindly."

"If you are already aware of my agenda, why pester me with all these inane questions?"

The boy clicked his tongue thoughtfully, pausing to carefully consider the dark lord's words.

* * *

**To be Continued...**

**Note: **Sorry this is so short, I decided to cut and edit out the fight scene to make the story flow better.


	13. Of Plans

**Icy Destiny**

**By: **xxlostdreamerxz

**Note:** Sorry this chapter is so short. Frankly, I'm exhausted from updating so much lately...

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**Chapter 13: Of Plans**

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Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something disturbingly familiar about the Dark Lord. The longer they stood, each silently appraising the other, in the midst of death and destruction, the more apparent their strange, elusive connection became. It wasn't the man's appearance that was familiar – after all, he'd never met this crimson eyed, chalky white skinned, bald person before – but the deep tenor of the Dark Lord's voice, his smooth assured movements, and his strangely familiar sarcasm…drew him in.

He was certain that the Dark Lord felt the same way.

When they'd first met, those crimson eyes had been indifferent, glittering with a mad sort of bloodlust…but then they had changed. Harry could see _curiosity_, _hope_, and _doubt_ swirling in the Dark Lord's eyes; he wasn't sure what had triggered the change, but he knew that _something_ important had shifted between them.

"Well?" Voldemort demanded.

Harry cleared his throat, thinking back to the Dark Lord's query. "I supposed it's because I've been having a hard time differentiating between the Light and Dark sides' agendas," he said slowly, meeting the man's gaze. "I know where Dumbledore stands on this war and I wanted to know yours. I wanted to know if this conflict is truly a war of beliefs or a war of revenge."

The Dark Lord snorted in disbelief.

"There is no such thing as a war of beliefs," Voldemort said sardonically, as something twisted painfully in his chest as he stared into the boy's emerald eyes. "While words can start wars, it is revenge that sustains the bloodshed. No matter how you spin it, this is the truth."

Harry pursed his lips in confusion. "But then…how will the war ever end?"

"It won't."

The boy was silent for a long, painful moment before he asked softly, "Is that why you started this war? For revenge?"

Voldemort looked away, unable to meet the boy's gentle gaze. Even though he knew, logically, that the elemental couldn't possibly be his son…seeing those hauntingly familiar emerald green eyes staring at him with compassion _hurt._ He could stand seeing those eyes staring at him with unbridled hatred or with teary-betrayal…but with kindness? His gut churned with guilt as he stood, his thoughts lingered between the past and the present.

The Dark Lord allowed a dark, deprecating chuckle to escape his pale lips.

"I suppose you can say that," he said, giving the boy a smile that was all _teeth._ "I am a being of destruction. I destroy everything I touch. This war was _necessary._ The magical world was becoming stagnant and lax with its policies; without destruction, change cannot occur. Admittedly, revenge may have motivated me in the beginning, but _now _the Dark has claimed me. I cannot and will not change my course."

Harry tilted his head to the side as he processed the Dark Lord's words. "I understand," he said after a long pause.

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**X

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**

Hearing his Death Eaters celebrating and the pained screams of their victims, Voldemort stared thoughtfully at the elemental before him before coming to a snap decision. He couldn't dismiss the connection between the two of them…the more he spoke to the element, the more he was starting to absurdly believe that the child was _his._

The elemental not only shared the same name as his deceased child, but also possessed the same physical features abet matured and the same, unblemished innocence. Though logically he knew the boy couldn't be _his_, he couldn't help but wonder. Perhaps, by some miracle, this Harry was _his_ Harry? With a heavy suspicion, Voldemort took an unexpected leap of faith.

"I will be holding an initiating ceremony in two weeks," Voldemort stated, his eyes never leaving the boy's face. He saw surprise, wonder, and cautiousness flash across the elemental's expressive eyes. "If you would like to learn more about the Dark's stance, you are welcome to observe."

The boy blinked.

"I will require an oath from you, should you choose to accept my invitation."

Harry nodded distantly. "Ok, I understand," he said softly. "This connection between us…I take it that is why you're allowing me to observe? So that we may speak privately afterwards?"

Voldemort dipped his head in agreement. "Yes."

The elemental chewed his lip, before giving one sharp nod. "Okay, I'll do it," he said firmly. "I'll take an oath." _I want to know why you're so familiar. _

The Dark Lord drew his wand, slowly approaching the Elemental. "Good," he stated as he began the ritual that would bind the secret to the boy, preventing him from blabbing about the meeting to anyone. Moments later, he turned away as a blinding flash of light emerged between them.

"It is done," he said calmly. "The meeting will take place in the Forbidden Forest at a quarter past midnight; stay at the edge and I will come find you."

Harry nodded.

With that said, the two parted ways…

* * *

TBC

**Chapter Preview:** Harry talks to Dumbledore. He finds out about Voldemort's past and true identity…

_Note_: **I'd really, really appreciate it if you guys would take the time to check my ShortForm. **The link is on my profile so please, please help out. If I get enough 370 more hits and meet my quota for the week I'll give you guys and extra update after New Years.


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